


Roter Himmel, Terra Rossa

by TiBun, Xenobia



Series: WWII [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Action, Bottom Ronald, Dark, Drama, Horror, M/M, Madness, Mystery, Romance, Ronalliam, Top William, WWII, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 171,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/pseuds/TiBun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobia/pseuds/Xenobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During WWII, Reaper Dispatch in Germany ends up needing assistance in collecting all the souls that became victims to the war and Holocaust. William and Ronald partner up to help on the battlefields collecting the souls of fallen German solders. But War time can test any reaper's limits and break them. This second Great War could prove too much for William T. Spears, and Ronald might be the lifeline he needs to retain his sanity. *Warnings*: Graphic violence, eventual lemons</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. We make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> The title is in both German and Italian, and it translates to "Red Sky, Red Earth”.  
> We are both not expert Italian or German speakers, so you'll likely see mistakes if you do know one or both of those languages. We apologize for the mistakes. At times we had to rely on google translate and the like to get what we needed.

Cover Art By: [K-Koji](http://k-koji.deviantart.com/art/Kuroshitsuji-Ronald-Knox-WIlliam-T-Spears-537075608)

 

 

 

* * *

He got the order from the board, and he stared at it for long moments before making the decision to choose candidates and call them into his office for a meeting and to issue their orders. As he waited for them to arrive, William T. Spears began to pace the floor. He looked out the broad window overlooking the reaper metropolis and he narrowed his eyes against the rising sun, pausing to watch it for a moment. What might the sunrise look like in such a setting? He couldn’t imagine it appearing this peaceful and welcoming.

"Hmph. Peaceful and welcoming," he mused. No, where he would soon be going, the light of day would only highlight the horror of everything. Blood, screams, fire, gunshots…and carrion. He sighed and removed his glasses, pressing a thumb and forefinger against either side of the bridge of his nose to massage it. He would find nothing peaceful about the sunrise while on this assignment.

There was a knock at his door, and a junior officer with shoulder-length, feathered auburn hair stuck his head in. “Boss Spears?”

"I would prefer that you call me ‘Mister Spears’, ‘Sir’, or ‘Supervisor Spears’, Alexander Jeffries. I’ve told you that."

The younger reaper smiled—he smiled too much for William’s liking, though his were not the mad grins of the Undertaker’s; nor were they the cocky, engaging smiles of Ronald Knox. They were more like the boyish, distracted smiles of a youth who hadn’t yet suffered enough harsh reality to know better. “Sorry.”

He didn’t _sound_ sorry. He said it as if an afterthought, and he came in. “What’s up, sir?”

William replaced his glasses and he turned to look at him, gesturing broadly at the room. “Have a seat somewhere and wait for the others to arrive. I shall explain when— _not_ in my chair.”

Jeffries’ butt was hovering two inches over William’s leather office chair and he stopped, giving him another damnably absent smile and shrugging. “I was just doing as you told me, boss…er…sir.”

He got up and went to one of the other chairs on the opposite side of the desk, sitting down with a sigh and crossing one ankle over a knee. He twiddled his thumbs and flicked his black sneaker-clad foot as if tapping it to the beat of a song, while his knee bounced rapidly. That particular nervous habit grated on William’s nerves almost as much as the fingerless gloves the boy wore.

"And I believe I have also told you that those gloves are not regulation," admonished the supervisor, his eyes narrowing on Alexander’s twiddling thumbs.

The motions of said thumbs stopped, and the junior officer shook his feathered bangs out of his eyes and looked at him with the helpless expression of a man wrongly accused, spreading his hands. “I only wear ‘em  so I can type better in the office, though. Slows me down if I’ve got the regular ones on, and I always put on the regulation ones when I go out in the field to collect, sir.”

"Then why not simply _remove_ your gloves when you work at your desk?” suggested William caustically. “I should think a reaper of your reputed intellect would have the sense to—”

"Mornin’ boss," said a deep voice with a Scottish burr, interrupting his lecture.

Eric Slingby walked in with his partner, Alan Humphries. Rather than take a seat, he chose to go up to the window and lean against it, his blue-tinted polarized glasses shading his eyes from the morning light. The sun backlit his tall frame, highlighting the golden lion’s mane of hair falling to his collar in waves, but for the right side—which was braided into cornrows and dyed black. His brunet partner Alan—small and slim of build and barely reaching Eric’s shoulders—stood beside him and yawned softly behind his hand. His youthful countenance complimented the Scotsman’s more rugged one, rather than clashing with it.

"Good," remarked William. "Thank you both for your prompt arrival."

"I arrived promptly too," reminded Jeffries, "and he just called you ‘boss’. No lecture for him?"

"Slingby is a senior officer who has proven himself many times over," William answered shortly. "He has earned the right. You, Alexander Jeffries, have not."

Eric smirked. “Been reapin’ since everyone in this room was still in diapers, kid. Including tha boss, here.”

Alexander shrugged and started twiddling his thumbs again. “Crystal clear.”

William checked his watch. “Now if only Sutcliff and Knox would arrive, we could begin.”

Eric folded his arms across his chest, the thin gold chain around his throat glinting in the light. “Could ya give us a hint o’ wha’ this is about, sir?”

"You will get more than a ‘hint’, once the others arrive," promised William. "I have no desire to repeat myself, and so we shall begin once we are all assembled. I only wish to go over this once, is that understood?"

Alan nodded quietly and Eric followed suit. William looked at Jeffries. “Is that _understood_ , Mr. Jeffries?”

Alexander jerked his thoughts away from whatever song he’d been playing in his head and humming to. “Yessir. I’m hip with that.”

"Honestly," muttered the supervisor beneath his breath. He found it easier to understand Eric when his accent got thick than it was to comprehend the slang so often used by the youngest generation of agents like Jeffries and Knox.

The door suddenly burst open, and a reaper dressed in black pants, a brown vest, a red and white-striped bow-tie and a long, ill-fitting red coat twirled in with a dramatic entrance. His crimson hair fell past his waist and it flared around him as he danced in.

"Hello, my darlings," cooed Grell, "your idol has arrived! Grell Sutcliff d—"

"Enough of that," snapped William before he could finish his self-promoting greeting. "Sit down and be quiet, Sutcliff. We have much to discuss and I won’t have this meeting distracted with your antics."

Ronald Knox stumbled in, his signature white shoes dragging the carpeted floor as he mumbled a greeting and combed black-gloved fingers through his dual-colored blond on black hair. He made a beeline for the leather futon and he collapsed on it.

"Do not dare fall asleep, Ronald Knox," warned William when the boy curled up like a sleepy mouse and shut his eyes behind the somewhat oversized black frames of his glasses. "I need you alert enough to understand the directive I’m about to give. Heavens, it’s like herding cats with you people."

Eric smirked and walked over to the futon to nudge Ronald with his boot. “Up an’ at ‘em, shrimp. I warned ya no’ tae stay out partyin’ sae late.”

Ronald swatted at the Scotsman blindly and grumbled, turning over onto his other side and pillowing his head on one bent arm. “Yeah, yeah…I’m listening.”

"Good, then. The Berlin Dispatch division is in need of foreign aid. The number of souls to collect has risen dramatically this year, and they lack the numbers to keep up with it. As such, they have requested aid from all major branches across the world, in order to garnish assistance without leaving anyone short on staff—or rather in our case—shorter. London Dispatch can only spare four agents for this assignment; two of which will collect the records of fallen German soldiers, while the other two will be assigned to the concentration camps…to gather the records of the victims there."

Alexander looked around with a frown. “But there’s five of us here, sir.”

"Indeed. I have decided to take on the task of the soldiers myself, with a partner. I will require two reliable officers to run this department in my stead while I am away, hence why I called five of you for this meeting, rather than three. Officer Humphries, Officer Slingby, I am counting on you."

Eric’s brows shot up. “Ya want _me_ tae run this place while yer gone? Have ya thought this through, boss?”

William nodded. “I have. With your more…conservative partner at your side handling the paperwork, I believe you can manage dispatch assignments. You have been here longer than anyone in this room, as you said, and you know the workings of this department.”

Eric shrugged. “A’right, then. Who’s partnering up wi’ ya in Germany?”

Ignoring Grell’s suddenly hopeful look, William nodded at Ronald. “I’ll take Knox.”

"Whaaa?" Grell pouted. "No offense to my darling Ronnie, but he’s still green, Will!"

"Which is why he will be partnered with me," explained the supervisor. "We are short staffed, Grell Sutcliff, and we cannot afford to send the bulk of our senior officers on this mission. No junior officers should be sent without a mentor to guide them, either. It’s far too dangerous for that."

"Then who am _I_ getting partnered with?” Grell asked, crimson brows furrowing.

Everyone looked at Jeffries, who smiled benignly at Grell. “Looks like you’ll be my mentor, Officer Sutcliff.”

Grell made a face and gave William a protesting look. “If I have to be teamed up with a greenie, why not the one I’ve trained from fledgling status?”

"No need to fight over lil’ old me," yawned Ronald, grinning. "Plenty o’ Knoxie t’ go around."

"Because where you’ll be going, you may need the skills of someone with a greater understanding of technology and mechanics…and someone that spends most of his spare time researching everything under the sun—including the current goings-on in war-torn mortal Europe."

Alexander smiled a bit wider, taking it as a compliment. “Wow, thanks for putting faith in me, b—I mean, sir. I know all about German engineering and—”

"You will be assigned to the death camps with Officer Sutcliff," interrupted William succinctly.

The young agent’s smile faltered and faded, his lightly tanned complexion going a little pale. “Oh.”

Everyone sobered at that…even Grell. William adjusted his glasses and turned to look out the window again. “I chose Sutcliff because he does not give way to compassion when he reaps. That will be an asset. I myself am familiar with the country and am best suited to guide myself and my partner through it in our task.”

"Bloody Germans," muttered Eric.

William turned his head to look at him, raising a brow. “I happen to be German, Mr. Slingby.”

Eric blinked, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Ye are? Really? I had no idea.”

The tall brunet smirked without humor. “On my mother’s side, yes. I was raised in England, but I am fluent in German and I spent enough time there visiting with my family to know my way around.”

Eric grimaced. “I dinnae mean tae offend. I jus’ dun’ understand how they can do tha things they’re doin’ an’ still sleep at night.”

"Eric Slingby with a conscience," mused William.

"I’ve go’ some morals, boss," insisted the Scotsman. "Ye’d ne’er see reapers wiping each o’er out like tha’."

"You used to have the same attitude towards the English," murmured Alan as a reminder.

Eric shrugged. “A’right, so I did. But this is even worse than wha’ happened in Scotland.”

"Direct your anger where it belongs," advised William sternly, "at the Nazi regime, not the country it originated from. Not every German citizen supports what goes on, need I remind you. Besides, we are meant to be neutral in these matters. Our task is to judge the souls we collect, true, but we are to do so impartially and without malice. If you must feel anything for these mortals and their actions, better for it to be pity than loathing. They are un-evolved and weak, as a whole."

Eric sighed, flushing a little. “Aye. Seems ye made tha right call keeping me here.”

William nodded. “Indeed.”

He picked up the paperwork he’d put together and he passed out a folder to each of the reapers that would be on assignment. “These are the itineraries we are to follow. We shall leave tomorrow at dawn. Do not be late, and remember to pack any necessary items you wish to take with you to the Berlin branch. Accommodation for us has already been arranged in Shinigami Berlin, so we will have a place in this realm to rest between assignments. We will report in to their Dispatch headquarters at the end of each workday to turn in our collections and be debriefed. In addition, I will fax those reports here to our home division to be processed by Mr. Humphries, to keep the board of directors updated on our progress.”

He looked around at his fellow agents, his face a cool mask despite his inner feelings on the entire affair. “Get plenty of rest tonight, Gentlemen. Those who will be departing for Germany may take the rest of the day off. Slingby and Humphries, resume your normal work duties for the day. I shall organize a chart for you to go by in my absence, and should you run into any problems, you may reach me on my mobile phone. Are there any questions?”

Jeffries slowly raised his hand. William sighed. “Yes, what is it, Mr. Jeffries?”

Alexander looked up from the documents he was flipping through, his oval, wire-framed glasses darkening as the sun struck them. “Say we run across a tank. Can I drive it?”

William grimaced slightly. “With _your_ driving record, I should say not.”

"Oh."

 

* * *

 

"Ronnie! Up! We got to go to Germany today. If you make me late I’m leaving without you and taking your spot with my darling William!" Grell snipped, jumping on Ronald who was fast asleep on his couch.  
  
Ronald didn’t own a bed, and he only had a couch because Grell had been throwing it away when he got a new one. Grell lived just down the hall from Ronald in the same apartment complex. But compared to Grell’s lavish flat, Ronald’s was cramped, mis-matched, and messy. The furniture was all second-hand items he’d picked up off his neighbors when they were replacing them. From Grell’s old red couch to an ugly, faded yellow chair with a high back and a broken seat, everything was out of date apart from his wardrobe which was all designer name-brand items. His watch alone was worth more than all his furnishings put together.  
  
“Up! It’s your turn to drive us to work!” Grell insisted, pinching Ronald’s cheeks and tugging on them until the young blond responded with a groan, his eyes cracking open. “Honestly, you have got to stop partying all night! Especially last night! You knew you had to get up early.”  
  
“I dinna wanna.” Ron groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before reaching for his glasses which were sitting among empty bottles on a old wooden coffee table in dire need of being refinished. “Stupid Germany…we have enough deaths with the air raids on London…”  
  
“Well, now you get to reap the ones responsible rather than victims.” Grell said, getting up and moving to the kitchen to make up some eggs to help get Ron moving, “That help?”  
  
“I’d rather go to Germany if I get to reap that nasty Hitler guy.” Ron stretched, his blanket falling from his bare shoulders before he stood up, Completely nude, he shuffled around the room, picking up clean boxers and ducking into the bathroom for a quick shower and to brush his hair and teeth. When he came back out, he wore only his boxers and his towel around his neck to catch the water from his hair; as he preferred it to air dry. He walked to his closet and began to dress himself in a clean, pressed suit, leaving the top button of his shirt open and his tie loose. He slipped on his signature white belt and then slipped on his shoes and gloves.  
  
“Hey, Senpai…what should I pack?”  
  
Grell walked out with a plate of eggs and handed it to the boy. He hadn’t been bothered by the nudity. He was used to it, though he still liked to tease his junior about it some mornings. “You didn’t pack last night?”  
  
“Didn’t know what to take.” Ron shrugged, taking the plate and fork, sitting down to eat.  
  
“Well, you’ll likely be given clothes to wear. War-time reaps are often long-term undercover assignments of sorts. There is so much death on the battle fields that many humans can see a reaper, even if he is masking himself. Uniforms help cut down on mortal wounds directed at a reaper. Bullets hurt. Trust me, darling. Basically, just take whatever you can’t be without. Maybe a nice picture of one of your girlfriends or something.”  
  
“…So I don’t really need to take anything?”  
  
“Just your scythe.” Grell said, then frowned, “Darling…I know how fond of your scythe you are…but it’s quite large and heavy. You may want to consider taking something easier to handle on a battlefield.”  
  
“But I like mine! She runs great! I can really fight with her if a demon shows it’s ugly face!” Ronald insisted, referring to his scythe which was in the form of a push lawn mower.  
  
“I know, but it does get jammed on you at times. You need something quick and reliable. You have to be on your toes. You can’t be fiddling with your mower.” Grell pointed out as he watched Ron shovel eggs into his mouth, barely taking time to chew before swallowing.  
  
“Den what am I—” he paused to swallow, “supposed to take? My old trainee scythe? Nah, no way.”  
  
“It is only a suggestion, Ronnie.” Grell hopped up and pulled his long red hair into a ponytail and grinned, “Ready?”  
  
Ron nodded and snatched up his keys, “Ready.”  
  
Together, the two reapers made their way out to the parking garage and Ron hopped onto his sleek orange motorcycle. “Hop on, Senpai.” He grinned as he turned it on. Grell hopped on behind him and soon they were speeding down the roadway towards the Dispatch building.

 

 

* * *

 

"Knox and Sutcliff are late." William checked his watch again. "How typical."

He was standing in one of the executive conference rooms with Jeffries and two visiting reapers from Berlin Dispatch, waiting to create a portal that would require the combined efforts of all of them, to travel such a distance. He looked at the male and female reapers that had come to assist with their transport to Germany, give them a tour of the headquarters there and show them to their suites. William was already dressed as a Nazi soldier, while Alexander wore appropriate civilian clothing for the current era in the mortal realm, including a black flat cap.

"I apologize for our associates’ tardiness," offered William in German. "I assure you they are good agents. They are simply running a bit late."

The foreign officers both nodded patiently, pacified by his fluent use of their mother tongue and the burden it took off them to speak in English. Both were trained to do so passably, but his offering to translate for them made things easier. The flaxen blonde woman eyed William covertly, a tiny smirk adorning her lips. Terrible as the Reich was, their sharp dress code was attractive and William T. Spears wore the SS officer uniform very well. The British Dispatch supervisor turned his back to them and her gaze became slightly more obvious. Her partner gave her a sidelong warning look when he noticed how her eyes admired the way the pants fit Spears’ backside, and he nudged her disapprovingly.

"Ah, here they come," William said with faint relief as he saw a flash of red through the open door of the conference room. As soon as Grell and Ronald entered, he tapped his watch and raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

"Ronnie’s fault!" Grell said as soon as he was within ear-shot. The redhead had slung Ronald’s protesting form over his shoulder as soon as they had parked the bike. Both their hair wind-whipped from the ride.  
  
“Was not my fault traffic was so bad!” Ronald hissed, “Put me down! I can run on my own, Senpai!” As soon as Grell set him on his feet, he took out a comb and quickly ran it through his hair to make sure it looked nice.  
  
“Oh~ William-darling~ You look very official dressed like that~” Grell cooed, moving to hang off the man, only to stumble for balance after William side-stepped his advance.  
  
“…Not the best entrance we could have made, Senpai…” Ron sighed.

William straightened his glasses in a dignified manner and he began introductions, starting with the blond woman. “Good of you both to come. This is Officer Bernat and her partner, Officer Gabler. They will serve as our guides until we depart for the mortal realm from Germany. You already know that Europe in the mortal realm is currently war-torn, but what we have thus far seen in England is rather tame, compared to the sights we’ll soon be seeing in Germany and surrounding occupied territories. The allies are closing in on the Reich and their supporters, so I’m afraid that the information I gave you yesterday was somewhat misleading.”

Alexander sighed, and when William gave him a warning look, he wisely kept his mouth shut. “We shall be given a list of several locations throughout Europe to collect in, which means making use of established portals in between our realm and the mortal one, in order to travel more efficiently. Each team shall have to rely on some form of transport between portals, whether it be in this realm or the other. It’s too dangerous to teleport long distances in the mortal realm right now—you could end up on a landmine or in the middle of a firefight with no cover, hence the need for use of pre-established, open portals. These portals are each guarded on the Shinigami side, to prevent the possibility of demons coming though from the other side to create mischief.”

William handed Grell and Ronald two sets of identification; one for the mortal realm and one for the Shinigami realm. “We will each be going under aliases in the mortal realm as we move around to complete our directives. The directives themselves remain the same: Knox and I are to collect records from fallen German troops, while Sutcliff and Jeffries gather from the victims in the concentration camps. Expect to encounter other reapers from other branches doing the same. They have their assignments and we have ours. Pass like ships in the night, gentlemen. They have their jobs to do an unless they show you a badge with the same symbol on the bottom right corner of your own, they should have no interest in collecting from your marks.”

Grell sighed and looked at the badges he was handed, “Any idea on how much longer this war is going to last?”  
  
“Too long.” Ron muttered, pocketing his and leaning against the wall, “But no use in complaining. Everyone is getting overtime and it won’t stop until the humans settle things on their own.”

"With any luck, things will settle before another decade passes," William said. "Until then, every top-power nation in the world will continue to slaughter one another and we must keep up with the tide of souls. We cannot allow the demons to feed on our targets, if it can be prevented. Now then, about accommodation: It has been arranged for us at each collection location, on our side of the planes. Staying overnight in the mortal realm would be ill advised. When we reach Berlin Dispatch, we will be given our first death lists to collect and part ways by this afternoon to begin. Collections shall be turned in at each respective agency as we move across Europe; to be sent to Berlin Headquarters."

He noticed Ronald’s lack of luggage and he frowned. “Did you bring nothing for this journey, Knox? Our hosts have arranged for our bags to be transported to each new location when we finish our assignments and prepare to move on.”     

Ronald shook his head, “I couldn’t think of anything I’d really need. Grell told me that I’d be given a uniform to wear so I didn’t see the need to pack extra suits or anything. I grabbed my toiletries though; and extra boxers.” he pulled a small bag out of an inner pocket.

William gave what might have passed for a shrug. “As you wish. Both you and Sutcliff will be given proper attire to wear in the mortal realm, to suit your respective roles. You shall be masquerading as an SS adjutant, Mr. Knox. Mr. Sutcliff, both you and Mr. Jeffries must dress as civilians. You will be shipped with the other victims to the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland, for a start. Sutcliff, I’m afraid you will need to do something with your hair. Either cut it short, find a way to conceal it…or…dress as a woman. I shall leave the choice up to you, but you must fit in with the population you will be reaping, all the same.”

"Wait…I don’t like the way you said _'other victims'_ ,” Alexander said in an uneasy tone. “Don’t tell me we’re expected to get gassed.”

"Not that it would harm you as reapers, but no." William smirked at him. "You will, however, need to enter the extermination chambers to collect, and to make your job easier, you will need to pose as two of the intended targets. Under no circumstance are you to interfere with what is being done, no matter how abhorrent you may find it. Is that understood?"

Jeffries tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and grimaced. “Uh-huh. Loud and clear.”

"You want us to play the part of the victims? Why can’t we be on clean-up duty? We could collect souls after they open up the showers to clear out bodies," Grell protested. "I’ve heard the reports of what goes on there! The victims are stripped, shaved down, and branded like cattle with tattoos. I want no part of such abuse!"

"I am not suggesting you allow yourselves to be _taken_ to the chambers with those who are doomed to them, Sutcliff,” corrected William, “but the fact remains that you must fit in with the population of the prisoners, nonetheless. Vanish from mortal sight when they come for you, make your collections in those chambers after it is done, and move on to the next assignments.”

"It’d be easier as a German, I think." Grell insisted, "You—what was your name? Don’t you agree with me?" He asked his partner for the assignment.  
  
“Grell, I’m sure Berlin Dispatch has figured out the best way to handle the camps.” Ron sighed.

William sighed as well. “These were the orders relayed to me because the board felt it would be easier for you to move amongst the victim population as one of them. Once we reach our destination, I shall contact them and discuss the possibility of the two of you going in as Reich soldiers. I will advise you not to get your hopes up, however. Going into this situation as a Nazi would mean directly involving yourselves in the extermination of the people they are currently rounding up. You would at least have to put up a reasonable pretense of herding these doomed souls to their death…and that includes unleashing dogs on children that try to run away.”

Jeffries swallowed. “I’d rather play a victim, thanks.”

"But we’ll be dirty and bald!"  
  
“Senpai.” Ronald walked over to Grell, “You’ll be acting out a part. You’re good at that.” He encouraged, to get his senior to calm and let the briefing continue.

"As Knox said," agreed William, "you needn’t alter your appearance physically. You only need to disguise it enough to be convincing. Jeffries knows enough about such things to put on the illusion convincingly. Don’t try to convince me you cannot do the same, Sutcliff."   

Grell crossed his arms, fully pouting about the situation he wasn’t pleased with.  
  
“So, do I change here?” Ron asked, eyeing William’s uniform, “Or are you just jumping the gun?”

"I collected my uniform early and changed," answered William, "but considering you both arrived too late to don your undercover attire and we shan’t be leaving from Shinigami Berlin right away, I suppose yours can wait until after the tour. Sutcliff, we will require your help to activate the portal. Silence from the rest of you would be appreciated for the sake of our concentration.

Alexander looked at Ronald and shrugged, making a “zipping” motion over his lips and smiling.

"If you insist, Boss." Ron shrugged, sitting down in a chair as Grell hopped up to help.

The four senior officers created the long-distance portal together, and William urged them all to go through while it held. After a dizzying trip to the other side of it, they stood before the Berlin headquarters. It was much busier than the London branch; with reapers dressed in both civilian and military clothing coming and going up and down the steps in an ant-like race. The hosting officers quickly ushered them in to show them around the facilities and an hour later, they were ready to depart, each London Dispatch officer dressed accordingly to his role. Their luggage was transported to their first respective destinations and it was time for the two teams to part ways and get going.

William glanced sidelong at Ronald as he stepped outside the building entrance with him. The boy was trying to find a way to fit the hat that came with his uniform onto his head without messing up his hairdo.

"Honestly, Knox…be fortunate your hair is short enough not to warrant a cut or illusion," he lectured softly. He nodded to their hosts. "I believe we are ready for departure."

Grell was fussing with his rather drab, scrub-like attire and emitting comments about how distasteful it was. To other reapers, he still appeared as himself. To mortals, however, both he and Jeffries appeared as bald as other holocaust victims, ready to be transported to one of the largest concentration camps in Europe like all the other unfortunates that fell under the knife.

"It is only temporary," William reminded. "And an illusion, insofar as the hair. Do the task set before you, Sutcliff."

He was frankly grateful that he hadn’t been able to procure approval from the board to have Grell and his partner masquerade as Nazi soldiers for this. Grell might have no issues finding a way to appear to follow orders to cut down the young and the old that might try to flee, but one couldn’t expect as much from a green reaper like Alexander.

"Says the man who gets to look sharp in a uniform."  
  
“Do I have to wear the tie so tight? It’s choking me.” Ron complained, fiddling with the tie of his uniform, “Who wears ties to war, anyway?”

"People that wish to maintain a professional appearance, regardless of the task before them," answered William readily. "We wear ties to reap the dead and dying, Mr. Knox. I hardly see much of a difference."

He looked at Grell and Alexander. “Stay alert; the both of you. We shall depart with the reminder that these assignments are much more dangerous than any we have undergone before. Immortal or not, being blown to pieces in a moment of carelessness would not be conductive to good health.”

He adjusted his hat and his glasses, and he nudged Ronald and nodded meaningfully at the portal awaiting the two of them. Each of them had been assigned portal tracking devices in the event that previously assigned portals needed to be moved to safer locations on the mortal side. In addition, the portal trackers had a map and coordinate feature to help them find their way around Europe.

"Good luck to you, gentlemen," he called as he and Ronald stepped through their portal.

Alexander looked at his assigned partner, then at the portal opposite to the one Spears and Knox had gone through. “Well, at least I’ll get the chance to check out the German engineering in this time period in person, instead of books. Ready, Mr. Sutcliff? I mean Miss?”

He was still getting used to Grell’s preference to be addressed with female pronouns—though William and Ronald didn’t seem to use them.

"Oh, aren’t you cute. Flattery won’t get you far in my book, though. You have to prove to me what you can do out on the field, first. Potential means nothing. Remember that. Take care of yourself, because I won’t be your knight in shining armor. I have no interest in damsels in distress." Grell said, shooing the boy towards the portal.

Alexander merely shrugged, smiled and nodded in agreement.

 

 

* * *

 

Interestingly enough, William and Ronald’s first assignment list did indeed take them to mortal Berlin—right in the middle of a bomb raid by United Kingdom’s Royal Army. According to the information from Berlin Dispatch, the death toll for this event would stretch out for two full days and nights. They arrived inside a damaged warehouse, somewhere on the outer western part of the city. William could sense the death all around him as the planes flew overhead, dropping bombs into the city.

"It must have just begun," he remarked to his companion, pulling out his small flashlight. "Ronald, let me see your cover Identification. I want to be sure everything is in order."

He was kicking himself for failing to do so before they left, but this entire situation had sprung up so quickly and his mind was racing.

Ronald jumped as another explosion was heard in the distance and he tugged out his identification badges, “Which one?” he asked. It wasn’t his first war as a reaper, but in the Great War, he’d been kept on Civilian Collections. He never saw a battlefield, and it was intimidating. Death hung in the air so thick it was overwhelming to his senses and put him on edge. “Uh…are you sure you want…me out here with you?” He asked, eyes scanning over the scene before them.

"You won’t do very much good cowering in here, will you? The identification badge you will be using here in this realm, if you please."

When Ronald handed it over, William shone the flashlight on it and he frowned in confusion. “This name is Italian, not German.”

He himself was going by the alias of “Christian Heinrich”, and Ronald was supposed to be an adjutant under his command. Then he recalled that the blond could speak Italian, and Italy was allied with the Nazis as part of the axis. He breathed a little easier. The SS-Freiwilligen Division wasn’t just made up of Germans, and though most of the rest was composed of Ukrainian, Czech and Dutch volunteers, it wasn’t beyond reason that an Italian could join it.

"This will do," he said with a nod, handing the badge back to his companion. He’d been prepared to tell Ronald to keep his mouth shut at all times and let him do all the talking if they needed to interact with any live Nazis, but he supposed he could pass for an Italian recruit. Not all of them were dark skinned and dark-haired, after all.

Another bomb came down a block away, lighting up the sky and making the ground and the building shake. William looked up at the ceiling as bits of debris came down, and he grabbed Ronald’s arm. “We’d best get started. Stay close, Knox. Focus on the job and work swiftly.”

"Shouldn’t you be calling me Mosca, Mister _Heinrich_? Or…what rank are you? It’d be good to know what to address you as once we are out there.” Ronald pointed out as they hurried out of the building. He’d been assigned the name of “Nereo Mosca” after mentioning that he was half Italian and could speak the language fluently. Not the name he would have picked, but it hadn’t been the time to be picky. “I’m just an officer, right?”

"Correct," replied William with a nod. "You are an executive officer and my adjutant. I am a major. For now, we can go with the premise that you act as an interpreter for me when I have liaisons with Italian military personnel within the axis."

He changed his accent suddenly, taking on a German one but still speaking English. “Many senior officers can speak at least rudimentary English, so it would benefit us to have the ability to speak one common tongue in order for this act to work. Can you put on an Italian accent, Herr Mosca?”

"I can." Ronald nodded, twisting his words with the accent. It was easy to do, though he hadn’t spoken his mother’s language since he’d been human. "Does it sound alright? I haven’t done it in decades."

William nodded. “It will do. Just remember that should it come to answering questions, we have been sent to assess the situation and report back to our superiors. So long as we avoid being seen by the living whilst on our assignments, it should not come to that. The mortal militias will be far too occupied in this chaos to pay much attention to a pair of officers moving amongst the dead, if we should happen to be spotted.”

He offered his hand to Ronald. “Now come with me. We have a very busy night ahead of us.”

Screaming civilians ran by outside the warehouse, and another bomb struck less than a block away.

Ronald blinked down at William’s hand and slowly took it, “Alright…”

William pulled him along with him and he honed in on the first target, practically dragging Ronald along with him. “I shall collect,” he called out over the noise. “You keep an eye out, for now. Understand? _Ronald_! Do you understand me?”

He cupped the blond’s face, practically having to shout at him over the noise surrounding them. Knox looked stunned by the destruction around them. William didn’t mind taking on the collection assignments, but he needed his companion to be alert and warn him if anything harmful was coming their way.

"Look at me," he coaxed. His division was so terribly unprepared for this. Was he wrong to choose Knox?

"Look at me," he urged again, his sharp features lit up by the flames. "I need you to focus, Ronald Knox."

Ronald’s eyes were wide. Death wasn’t new to him by a long shot—but the amount of bodies. The cries, screams, shouts…gunfire and explosions… The further into the battle they got the more overwhelming it became.  
  
There was so much dirt and smoke in the air, it’d be hard to tell by sight and smell alone if there were demons prowling about. But he nodded, “I understand, sir.”

William studied him for a moment longer before nodding. “Very good. Stay close. I will require your diligence while I collect.”

He found his first target among the smoky rubble, calling out in German when he saw the two reapers. William approached the pinned solider and he spoke to him softly as he drew his scythe.

"Your trials are over," he said, and then the pole of his scythe shot out and punctured the dying soldier, releasing a flood of records.

"Ronald, keep me covered," he said to his companion as he began to collect the reels with his scythe.

Ronald looked about them as his partner collected, his eyes catching sight of a quick moving object headed strait for them, “Duck!” He cried, pulling William down and out of the path of the bullet that whizzed over their heads.

William dropped with his companion, keeping his complaints to himself. He was still collecting the records and he somehow managed to hold onto his concentration and keep drawing them while hunkering low. “Well done,” he approved, seeking out the source of the bullet. It seemed to have come from a panicked soldier off to the left, who was suffering a severe case of dismemberment. His left leg had been blown off.

After checking the death list given to them, William nodded his way. “Reap that one, Ronald, while I finish here.”

"Yes, sir." Ronald nodded, hurrying over to the fallen, dying man and summoning his scythe. He had taken Grell’s advice and had grabbed his old scythe before he got his mower. It was his training scythe, but it had been modified slightly before he switched to his new one. The handle was longer, and the blade had a swirled pattern etched into it. He raised it and used it to release the man’s records and start collecting them, "It’s not nice to shoot at your reapers, you know."

William finished with his collection and he went to Ronald’s side, eyeing the sky warily. More planes were flying overhead, and he heard the ominous whistle as they dropped bombs. “Do hurry, Ronald. We need to avoid being out in the open for too long.

As if to accentuate his point, one of the bombs struck the warehouse they’d just left moments ago, and William shielded his companion’s bodily as flaming debris flew through the air. It wouldn’t do for Ronald to lose his concentration and end up in a struggle with the records. They could turn hostile on him if he slipped up, and William knew from experience how unpleasant that could be.

"Done!" Ron said as the last of the records were collected into his scythe’s blade, "How many more do we have?" He knew there was a lot, and they’d only collected two, but he didn’t like it on the battle field.

"Nineteen tonight," answered William with a glance at the death list. "Come…this way."

He started off down an alley so that they would have at least some measure of cover, guiding his companion through the ravaged streets to their next target. They found her lying in a pool of her own blood outside a bakery. William dispatched her quickly, and then he grabbed Ronald without warning and shoved him up against the building. The ground shook and the street cracked as another bomb dropped, barely half a street away. A piece of flying glass cut William’s cheek and he grimaced without vocal complaint, putting one gloved hand against the bleeding cut. It began to close immediately.

Even though he knew the wound was minor and would heal within seconds, Ronald gasped when he saw the glass cut his boss’ handsome face, and he caught himself reaching up to touch it, though he managed to stop himself. It was silly to worry over such a thing, after all. And second later, it had healed, though blood was still smeared over William’s cheek. Ronald pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe the blood away.

"Thank you," said William, faintly surprised by the action. Ronald must be more shaken than he let on. He’d never seen him concerned like this before…but this was a rather stressful situation. He’d surprised himself with his own protective actions, actually. With a glance around to be sure it was safe to move on again, William nodded and took the younger reaper’s arm. "We’d best get moving before the next bombardment. I don’t fancy the thought of dodging more explosions like that."

"Or getting hit by one and spending time in the hospital getting pieced back together…" Ronald agreed under his breath as they hurried on, looking for their targets in the ruins and bodies.

* * *

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

* * *

On they went through the night, seeking shelter when the Royal Army dropped more bombs and doing their best not to attract the attention of the few mortals still out and about. It was one of the most difficult collection assignments William had ever seen. They had to reap a couple of children and even an infant in the process. He quietly worried that Ronald might break over that, but he was one of the most objective reapers of his generation, and the blond held strong. By the time they finished their assigned task, both of them were exhausted, and the bombing raid had finally come to an end.

The sun was beginning to rise as they made their way to the open portal to the Shinigami realm at the northern edge of the city, their feet dragging with weariness. As they approached the portal, William looked at his companion; who for once was quiet and rather subdued. “Good work, Knox,” he offered—and coming from him, praise was a rare thing. “You may finally achieve that long sought-after promotion, if you continue to perform like this.”

It was going to get harder before it got easier, but at least they hadn’t run into any demons during this assignment. He imagined it was too difficult for the creatures to form a contract in the face of such swift death. Sutcliff and Jeffries were more likely to face demonic activity with their assignments than he and Knox were, in fact. The concentration camp prisoners had time to build up desperation and bitterness as they watched family and friends get executed, after all.

"It’s just…my job." Ronald mumbled as they approached the portal back to the safety of their realm, "I should be able to handle this just as well as the collections I did back home in London. Young women and babies die all the time."  
  
But it wasn’t the same, and he knew it. He was used to such death being caused by illness or a hard life and lack of nutrition. Sometimes abuse—which was hard on him, but he managed. War, however, was needless. He felt more like his work was adding to the suffering of the world rather than ending suffering. So many casualties; so many lives that otherwise would have lived much longer if the violence of war hadn’t intervened and changed fate.  
  
However, a good reaper never let his emotions affect his job. They had no place on the field, and Ronald wasn’t about to let them all out in front of his boss who had just praised him for his performance on the field—which admittedly wasn’t his best work. More than a few times he’d been shocked and William had to snap him back into the right mind-set.

William paused at the portal, his soot-smudged face turning toward the bomb-ravaged city. “It goes beyond that,” he murmured. “You have never been subjected to working under conditions like this. Nor have I, for that matter. Barring demonic interference, the only real threat we usually face on the job is the risk of cinematic records becoming hostile and overwhelming us. Had this been an ordinary assignment, we no doubt would have finished in half the time. This is far more brutal than our usual work, Mr. Knox.”

Confident now that he’d chosen his partner for this endeavor wisely, William nodded at the portal. “We should go now, while it is still quiet enough to get through without obstacles. Our belongings should be waiting at our accommodations on the other side, and we can shower, eat and rest up after turning in our collections and reports. I believe we’ll have one day’s reprieve before we must move on to the next location with our new death list.”

Ronald nodded and stepped up to the portal, pausing just as he was about to step through, “First shower dibs.” He said before hopping through before William could protest—assuming he would.

With a sigh, the older reaper followed.

 

* * *

 

They turned in their collections and reports first, and then they went straight to the hotel they’d been assigned to. While waiting on his turn for the shower, William phoned room service for some breakfast and then he called London Dispatch to relay his report to Eric and Alan personally. Berlin Dispatch was going to send copies anyhow, but he felt more secure giving his own verbal account of their endeavors.

"So how was tha first day, boss?" Eric asked him.

"Bloody awful," admitted William, too tired to play it off any differently. "We are back at our hotel now, preparing to freshen up and get some rest before moving on. How have things been going over there?"

"Hasnae fallen apart yet," assured Eric. "Al’s go’ tha paperwork side of it handled an’ I’m taking care of reaper dispatching. Try not tae worry ‘bout us, Spears. Jus’ concentrate in keeping yerself and Ronnie in one piece through this. I dun’ want this job permanently."

William smirked wryly, and he glanced at Ronald as the blond came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and a damp, mussed hair. “I shall keep that in mind. I’d better let you go now, so that I may get cleaned up. Take care, Mr. Slingby.”

He hung up and regarded his youthful companion quietly for a moment. “Our meal should arrive on a cart within the next ten minutes, so do stay awake and listen for the knock while I shower.”

"I’ll try." Ron yawned, letting himself fall face-first across the foot of the bed closest to the door and bathroom. He then rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, "Water pressure is low in the shower, fair warning."

With a groan, he pushed himself up and walked over to the drawer where he’d tossed his few belongings that he didn’t need in the bathroom, taking out a fresh pair of bright orange boxers to put on. While he preferred sleeping in the nude, he was sharing a room with his boss—who might not appreciate having such a sight. And the last thing they needed was an awkward disagreement. They were partners for the next unknown amount of months, after all. Best to keep the peace.

William bowed his head once he was in the shower, closing his eyes as he let the warm, weak spray rain on him. The current state of affairs in the mortal realm affected him more than he let on. These were his mother’s people, committing these crimes against humanity. True they were mortal and she’d been a reaper, but he felt a sense of shame nonetheless. He honestly chose Grell to oversee the assistance in the concentration camps because he wasn’t entirely sure he could bear to do it himself.

He remained that way for a while, just letting the water wash over him as if it could wash away his feelings. When it started to go cool, he hurried it up and lathered his body with the cake of soap, before shampooing and rinsing his hair. When he came out he found that the food had arrived and Ronald was sleepily eating his share at the little table, dressed in a pair of orange boxers that would have really clashed on most anyone else—yet they suited him. The boy had one elbow propped on the table and his cheek resting in his palm as he ate with half-closed eyes.

Smirking a little at the sight, William tightened the belt of his bathrobe and he went to retrieve his own plate. “Try not to plant your face in your meal, Ronald,” he warned as he joined him at the table. He poured himself some juice from the pitcher and he solicitously refilled the blond’s glass.

"At least the pillow would be tasty." Ron shrugged, nodding in thanks for the refill, "And I am almost done and can soon move back over to the bed." He straitened in the chair and stretched, "Feels nice to be clean again, though. Today was…rough…"

William nodded in accord. “Agreed.” He cut off the end of a sausage and pierced it with his fork. “Thankfully, we have time to rest and recuperate before moving on.”

He was vaguely grateful as well that they’d seen fit to put them in a room with twin beds. Sleeping in the same one as Ronald might prove awkward, as he was quite used to sleeping alone and he had no idea of the blond’s sleeping habits. He looked out the window when he heard a tap against the glass, and he found a pigeon looking in at them curiously. A rare smile curved the brunet’s lips as he thought of his own bird companions at home. Without a thought for it, he tore off a couple pieces of his croissant and got up with them in his palm.

"No need to be alarmed, friend," he murmured as he slowly opened the window and the bird hastily backed up a little. He only opened it enough to slip his hand underneath and deposit the offering on the sill. "There you are. Enjoy."

The pigeon regarded the pieces of bread curiously, before cooing and approaching it with caution. William stood back and watched the animal enjoy the treat, feeling oddly comforted by its presence.

"You like birds?" Ron asked, shoveling the last bite of his supper into his mouth and moving to put the dishes he used back on the tray it had been brought up to them on.

William nodded. “I’ve developed a certain mild affection for some species, yes. Pigeons are quite social, and they make good message carriers.”

He turned from the window and he went back to the table to finish his meal. Not usually one for small talk, he realized he didn’t know much about Ronald Knox aside from his love for partying and sleeping. He was a good agent aside from those two factors, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Generally not the sort to seek out personal information about his subordinates, William found himself curious. He watched the younger reaper put away his dishes and he looked away when Ronald bent over.

"Have you a favorite animal, Knox?" he queried conversationally, putting his attention firmly on his unfinished food. 

"Mmm, sure." Ronald shrugged, straitening up and climbing into the bed he had claimed as his for their stay in Germany, "I’m fond of foxes. I found a baby kit when I was four or five, and I thought it was a puppy. its mother had been caught by hunters in a fox hunt and so I took it home with me and begged my parents to let me keep it…I named it ‘Puppy’."

William snorted softly. “And did they allow you to keep it?”

"Eventually." Ron nodded, "Until it pooped in my mom’s shoe."

William coughed on his juice, and he quickly covered his mouth with a napkin. “I…see.” He didn’t know why he was so interested in the boy’s past; except that it help relieve him of his own inappropriate turmoil. “What happened with this fox kit after that?”

"It was grown by then. My father took it away and I cried and threw a fit. I still don’t know what happened to him."

"Pity," offered William solicitously—and he was actually sincere about that. "My parents never allowed pets of any sort."

He finished off his hash and started on the sausage. “That was why I spent so much time in the park, feeding the pigeons. I also constructed a bird feeder in our yard to attract visitors. My father caught me petting a dove that had become familiar enough with me to allow my approach, and he lectured me about lice and diseases the animals carry. Of course that seemed ridiculous to me, considering reapers are immune to disease and parasites find us unpalatable. I still believe he saw it as a weakness, to express fondness for other creatures.”

William smirked without amusement. “It’s a wonder the man managed to marry and reproduce at all. He seemed incapable of love.”

"You mean there’s a guy out there who’s even more all-business-no-play than you? Scary. Wouldn’t want to meet that guy." He adjusted the pillows on the bed and laid down, "Do you have a pet bird now, then? You’re an adult, free from Daddy’s ‘no affection allowed’ rules."

"Just the pigeons I sometimes use to relay messages when I’d rather not use a telephone," answered the brunet.

He finished the rest of his meal and his drink, and then he put his plate back on the tray and wheeled it out for room service to pick up. He went to his suitcase to select his pajamas for the night and then he excused himself to the bathroom to put them on. When he emerged again, he was dressed in a pair of plain, royal blue silk pajama bottoms. He went to the unclaimed bed and turned it down, before climbing in and dimming the lamp.

"Sleep well, Mr. Knox," he offered with a yawn. "And for once, you will not be penalized for sleeping in when morning comes. We do need to be up and moving again by noon, however."

"Fair warning…I’m not a morning person." Ron yawned, "Grell usually assaults me with a pillow or something to get me up. I like sleep." He shifted in bed with a groan, cradling his face in a pillow, "Night, Senpai." he took off his glasses and set them on the table between the beds.

William watched the younger reaper for a few moments as Ronald closed his eyes, and then it occurred to him that he was staring—and he’d neglected to remove his own glasses. He remedied that and placed them next to Ronald’s, nearly missing the nightstand on his first try. Though it was a trait of their kind to have poor vision and require glasses by puberty, William’s eyesight was particularly bad. Thankfully it hadn’t gotten any worse in the past decade, but where most reapers could see at least three feet in front of them clearly enough to function without spectacles, he sadly could not.

Perhaps that was a good thing, though. If he could see nothing of his companion save a blur of yellow-blond and fair skin, the temptation to stare was eliminated. The boy was attractive to look at…perhaps _too_ attractive. The last thing William needed to be doing while on this assignment was entertaining inappropriate thoughts concerning his chosen partner.

It made him wonder if he’d subconsciously picked Ronald for reasons beyond practicality.

 

* * *

 

William was woken up by a phone call around noon. He groaned and reached for his glasses first, then the device after putting them on. When he saw the time on the clock, he groaned again. He’d overslept and apparently neglected to set the clock.

"Spears," he said simply.

"Good afternoon, Herr Spears," said the voice of the Berlin Dispatch supervisor on the other end. "I received a call from your hotel manager that you did not come to the door when room service attempted to bring your clean uniforms. Is there a problem?"

“ _Nein_ , no problem,” assured William, grimacing at his own irresponsibility. “I’m afraid my partner and I slept in. I mustn’t have heard them knocking.”

"Ah, that is understandable," assured the other man. "Well, you will find your clothing outside your door. I hope you are rested enough to continue to your next assignment?"

"Yes, of course." William pulled the covers down and sat up, stretching a bit. "We shall pack up immediately and drop off our luggage at Headquarters when we retrieve our next assigned death list. I apologize for the delay."

"So long as you reach Warsaw by this afternoon," said the German supervisor. "There will be an uprising in the ghetto beginning there, and many lives on both sides will end as a result. I believe your other companions were sent there as well, so while your targets will differ, you may find yourselves working alongside them."

"I see," murmured William. He glanced over at Ronald. That might please him, to be reunited with his mentor under such strenuous circumstances…though he loathed the thought of the chaos he and Grell might get up to. "I shall wake and inform my companion immediately. _Danke schön._ _”_

William hung up and climbed out of the bed. He bent over Ronald and he shook his shoulder. “Knox, wake up. We’ve overslept, and we need to be on our way to our next destination.”

The sleeping blond gave a moan, curling up and hiding further under his blankets, seemingly unaware of William’s words. It felt so good to be within slumber’s embrace. His body warm and comfortable, his mind lost within his dreams…he didn’t want to leave it.

William sighed and shook him again. “Ronald, get up. I’m afraid we’ve both indulged ourselves too much and we must be on our way. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

"Grell, no. Nah gonna work ‘gain…" Ron mumbled into the blankets covering his head, "Y’suck’t tryin’ ta sound li’ Wi’sexy… I muss insist ya stahp… I wan’… no…won’t say."

William raised a brow, unable to make out most of what he said and finding it a bit surreal. “I’m not Sutcliff, Mr. Knox. Please do me the favor of not comparing me to him again.”

He yanked the covers down…and his other brow immediately migrated upward to join the first. Ronald had a rather obvious case of “morning wood”. So obvious, in fact, that William could see the head of his endowments peeking out of the flaps of his fly. He stared for a moment, blinking, and then hastily pulled the covers back over the blond. Face heating, William took a moment to compose himself before nudging Ronald again, more roughly.

"Ronald Knox," he barked, "Get up…er…wake up this instant! We have somewhere to be."

His mind went to inappropriate, dirty places as he considered other, more gratifying ways he could wake the heavy-sleeping agent, and he berated himself for it. “Must I toss ice water on you?”

Ronald groaned, rolling onto his back, the blanket pitching a tent as he did so. He really didn’t want to wake up yet, but an annoying, persistent voice was tearing him from the imaginary embrace of the person he had a crush on. The reality started to break through the fantasy.  
  
Slowly, he cracked open his eyes and rubbed them, “Whaa?”

William averted his gaze, keeping his expression a cool mask despite his inward feelings. “We need to dress, check out and go to headquarters right away, Knox. We are due to depart for Warsaw soon. I overslept as well because I failed to set the alarm properly, and now we are running late.”

Ron groaned louder, “Fuck… —wait. You’re Spears!” Ron gasped, sitting up, “Not Grell—wait! Oh! Germany and the stupid war thing…Shit! I didn’t say anything weird, did I?”

William nearly smirked. “You always say something ‘weird’ when woken from sleep, from my experience. This time it was mostly indecipherable babbling, however. The most I could get out of it was that you apparently mistook me for Grell.”

Turning away from him, William went to the door to collect their uniforms from the hallway. He brought them back in and set them on his bed. “I’m going to dress in the bathroom. I advise you to do the same out here whilst I do so. We’ll get some coffee at Headquarters before we leave and if there is time, we can get a bite to eat as well.”

Trying not to think of the state of arousal Ronald was in, William gathered his uniform and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change.

"…I wish he would have given me the bathroom… cold water would help…" Ron muttered, sliding out of bed and starting to dress himself, tucking himself away and trying to hide his aroused state in the fitted slacks.

William splashed some cold water on his face, gave his teeth a quick brush and changed into his uniform…sans hat. He carried the hat tucked beneath one arm and the pajama bottoms tucked under the other as he exited the bathroom. He thought better of just stepping right out into the main room when he realized Knox might still be changing.

"Ronald, are you decent?"

"Not if I’m a girl." Ron smirked. He was half dressed, shirt still open as he used the mirror on the wall over the table to fix his hair; his comb attempting to tame his wild blond and black locks of hair.

Figuring that was decent enough, William stepped out. He glanced at Ronald and made himself look away quickly, finding the sight of him with his shirt hanging open far too distracting—which was strange, considering he’d seen him in nothing but a pair of boxers…and more of him than expected, at that. He packed away his pajama pants and he began to check the room for anything he might have missed.

"You may be pleased to know that our next assignment takes us to the very place Sutcliff and Jeffries were deployed," he informed Ronald. He closed his suitcase and set it on the bed. "Their collection assignments will be the ‘residents’ of the Warsong ghetto, however, while ours will be the SS soldiers that are destined to die in the upcoming conflict. We are to concentrate on our own collections and move on when finished, leaving them to their task unless either of our teams run into opposition and must take up arms."

He actually dreaded this assignment. An uprising, the Berlin director had called it. That meant that the Jewish residents there must be preparing to resist Nazi attempts to gather them up and take them to concentration camps…or extermination camps. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and he made his bed. When he finished with that, he bent over to check under it and be sure none of his belongings were beneath it.

Ron walked into the bathroom to get help from water for his hair before brushing his teeth and walking back out, buttoning his shirt and tucking it in, “I’m not sure I want to see where Grell-senpai is working, to be honest.” Ron muttered, “I think it’d be worse than a battle field or bombing sight. —where’s my tie?”

William looked around for it, frowning. “Check the pockets of you uniform. They might have put it in there.”

Ron walked over and checked the pockets of his jacket, and he shook his head, “Nope.”

William sighed and went to the hotel phone to call laundry service, speaking in German. “Yes, this is William T. Spears in room B-12. You picked up our laundry for cleaning yesterday and I’m afraid my traveling companion is missing his tie.” He described it to them and he asked if it was still there. “I see. Well, I expect you to deduct the cost from the bill, then. Good day.”

He looked at Ronald and shook his head. “It seems they misplaced it.” He went to his luggage and opened it up, searching through the carefully organized selection of clothing pieces until he found a tie that matched the one Ronald lost. “Here, take this one. I shall have to be more observant, the next time I hand over our laundry to someone else to wash. That, or we should do our own laundry from here on out.”

"Do you think we could survive doing it ourselves? We were dead by the time we got back here to our hotel." Ronald pointed out, taking the tie and securing it around his neck before putting on his jacket and hat.

William almost said that of course they could…but he hadn’t done his own laundry since he got promoted to executive supervisor. The SS uniforms weren’t exactly cheap to come by, either. “Well then, we shall just have to be more careful about checking our clothing when it returns, to be certain nothing is missing. Are you almost ready to go, Knox?”

"I suppose so." Ron said, making sure he had his identification badges in his pocket and picking up his small bag of personal items, "Lets go." he placed his hand on Will’s shoulder, frowning, "It’s going to be another long day…isn’t it?"

The brunet resisted a sigh and he put his uniform hat on. “I’m afraid so. Possibly quieter than our first assignment, but I must warn you this will be more difficult to remain detached from.”

He’d heard stories about those targeted by the Nazi’s being relocated, only to wind up in extermination camps. The massacre had begun. “Ronald, we must count on each other, and we must stay alert. Perhaps it will make our progress slower, but should it become too much to handle—for either of us—its best that we take a break to collect ourselves.”

It was the closest he’d come to admitting how deeply this situation was affecting him. He could hardly believe he’d hinted as much to Ronald Knox; but he honestly couldn’t think of anyone else in their department he would have rather revealed it to. He looked at him, his sculpted features cool and calm despite his inward trepidation.

"We are exemplary agents of London reaper Dispatch," he murmured, "and we shall do our jobs to our best abilities…even if it means completing our assignments more slowly than usual. Do you agree?"

"Yes, sir." Ronald nodded, "It’s already been hard enough to keep emotions off the field. I don’t think I would be able to work with Grell-senpai in the camps."  
  
He shook his head and walked over, opening the door for William, “Better to show weakness by needing a break than break down completely.”

William gave a nod and he walked through the door, pulling his wheeled suitcase behind him. “This is why I chose Sutcliff for that particular line of assignments. He has his faults—many of them—but he’s comparably ruthless in the field and he’s not the sort to allow emotion to trouble him overly…unless he get snubbed by a man he clings to.”

The last was spoken with a hint of old annoyance. Heavens, how he wished Grell would find someone suitable to his needs that reciprocated his advances. It would make working with him so much easier.

 

* * *

 

They arrived at Berlin headquarters a short while later, and they put their luggage into transport before collecting their lists for the next location, along with coordinates to their arranged accommodations on the reaper side. When William saw the document concerning said accommodations, he pursed his lips.

"They have housed us in the same bed and breakfast as Sutcliff and Jeffries," he sighed.

"Shouldn’t matter. We’ll be dead by the end of our shift, and if not, it’d be nice to talk with them, see how they are doing and handling collecting in such…evil places." Ron shrugged, looking over the names on his collection list, "Wish this thing wasn’t in German. I can’t read the details at all—and I’m not just saying that because I don’t want to do this."

William looked over Ronald’s shoulder at the list. “Not to worry. I can guide us. You can be my eyes and ears while I work on reaping. You’ve proven to have quick reflexes.”

"Yeah….sorry that I smacked our heads together helping you duck debris at the end of our day…that was an accident." Ron said, handing over the list, "Hopefully I won’t do that again. But you can count on me, sir."

William folded and tucked the list into his pocket. “Better it be our heads smacking together than a sheet of flying metal decapitating us both. There is nothing to apologize for, Knox.”

They made it to the next portal and William took a slow, cleansing breath. “Well then, shall we?”

"Ladies, first." Ron smirked, gesturing to the portal. He straitened when William shot him an un-amused look. "Fine, fine. Just trying to start the day out better than it’ll end," he muttered, stepping through.

 

* * *

 

They arrived in Warsaw to the sight of a sprawling mess of a ghetto. There were so many people…dirty people, starving people…and SS troops patrolling the streets. William glanced at Ronald, before looking over the death list. “Our first target is scheduled to die within an hour,” he informed him. “I think we should locate him and be ready, before we attempt to make contact with our London associates here.”

"This place…feels like Hell itself…" the blond muttered, "Hell, it _is_ Hell to all these people…" he added, looking out at the shaved, malnourished people. Their rags hardly covered their skeleton-like bodies. If death had been thick in the air at the bombing site, it was physically overwhelming here. Death’s grip was clinging to everyone—it was only a matter of time.  
  
He tore he gaze away, hating that he couldn’t help them. That he was only there to collect the souls of the men who have done this to countless innocent souls.  
  
“Yeah…let’s go find him.”

William glanced at him, compressing his lips. He heard whispers from the residents of the upcoming uprising as they passed along.

"We cannot simply let them do this…"

"…they want to kill us all…"

"Why, Mama…why do they hate us?"

William had to stop suddenly.

"Knox," he called. "One moment."

The child that wanted to know why they hated them would be amongst the casualties. He had to take a few deep breaths. He was too proud to break down, but as soon as his companion’s form came into view, he mentally clung to it.

_~Not alone…not alone…they did not and will not die alone. Someone is at their side. Gods…how can humans bear it?~_

He sucked in a harsh breath, putting his gloved hands against his forehead. Starved of food, starved of any sort of dignity…and this was the legacy put forth to his mother and her people.

"Just one moment," he said to his companion, "I…just need a moment."

Ronald was glad he couldn’t understand the words being said all around him. The desperation in their weak voices was enough to make him almost lose it. But William wasn’t so lucky; being able to understand each and every German word uttered. And when the man called for him, Ronald was quick to rush to his side again, reaching out and touching his shoulder in comfort. “Are you alright, sir?”

William swallowed and nodded, pulling himself together. His companion’s touch was surprisingly helpful to him…seemed to ground him. “Yes. I apologize for the lapse. It will begin soon, and I have a location on our first target.”

He looked at him, schooling his face back into a calm mask. “Thank you, Knox.”

"Any time." Ron nodded, knowing that this wasn’t the time or place for his jokes.

They made their way through the ghetto, concealed from mortal sight except for those who were near death. They passed by an old woman dying in the arms of her husband and she reached out to them, speaking Romanian. William kept his gaze decisively fixed ahead, knowing that some other reaper would soon collect her. Sure enough, he spotted a pair of agents dressed in the Warsaw Dispatch division’s uniforms, and they exchanged salutes with him as they passed, neither questioning nor pausing their trajectory. He saw a familiar flash of read as he and Ronald turned down a smaller street and he sighed. Sutcliff and Jeffries were in the town square, standing by one of the dilapidated buildings that might have once been a shop of some sort. Now it was filled with more than one family of squatters, like most of the buildings in the city.

As he and Ronald approached the first SS officer due to die in the impending conflict, Alexander noticed them and he nudged his companion, pointing. William gave them both a nod as Sutcliff turned to look at them. He could see beneath their illusionary disguise, and he got some small sense of amusement at the thought of how it must rankle the flamboyant redhead to be stuck wearing rags.

"Think they are doing okay here?" Ronald asked under his breath, nodding at the two reapers as he and William moved on to keep an eye on their first target, "This place is…heavy."

"Sutcliff I’m sure has managed just fine," answered William softly. His eyes studied Alexander. "His assigned partner, however, may not be enduring the situation with complete objectivity."

Indeed, Alexander looked a bit worse for the wear. He kept jumping at sounds and he had his custom scythe out—a tool in the form of a black and gold weed-eater, which like Ronald’s lawnmower was an invention yet to be made in the mortal realm. William detected the sound of yelling, followed by a group of heavy footsteps coming their way. The SS soldiers looked around suspiciously, hands on their weapons.

"It’s about to begin," murmured William. "Be ready for it, Ronald."

"Huh? Oh…yeah." Ronald tore his gaze away from their comrades and summoned his scythe to his hand, following William closely as things started to get louder. "This is going to be messy," he muttered, eyeing all the guns officers were pulling out.

A mass of ghetto residents came into view from around the corner of a building, armed with whatever they could find. Kitchen knives, poles, pipes, crude weapons fashioned from scrap metal, and even rocks and slingshots. One of them pointed at the SS patrol and shouted something in Polish. He fired at the man close to William with a gun he’d somehow managed to procure from somewhere, and the Dispatch supervisor sidestepped as the SS officer fell, clutching his spraying neck. The angry, desperate shouts of the mob filled the air, and the German troops banded together in the square and began firing at will.

William began to reap his first target, with Ronald guarding him in case of stray bullets and keeping an eye out for demonic activity. Across the way, Alexander started up his weed whacker to reap one of the fallen rebels, while Grell’s chainsaw roared to life and took care of another one. William thought he saw one of the Warsaw dispatch officers off to the left collecting his own marks, and as the chaos grew, the reaper teams worked in conjunction with each other, instinctively giving one another room without the need for communication.

William heard the rattle of a machine gun going off just as Ronald finished collecting their second mark, and he saw one of the Polish Dispatch officers get hit by bullets intended for one of the rioters that he was standing too close to. He grabbed Ronald’s arm and nodded toward the man meaningfully, not bothering trying to shout over all the noise. The Polack’s partner was trying to drag him away from the chaos and take cover to see to his injuries, but he was having trouble doing so and dodging bullets at the same time.

"Should we cover them?" Ron shouted over all the noise, "So he can get his partner out of line of fire and further injury?" He knew they were supposed to stick to their own lists, but if the reaper got too injured, even by mortal weapons, he’d be out of commission to heal for a few days—which wasn’t ideal in a war situation.

William nodded and started off, leading the way through embattled bodies and whizzing bullets. He couldn’t speak Polish, but he gestured at the stricken reaper when they arrived and he made a lifting gesture, before pointing to himself and Ronald. The injured one’s partner nodded and said something that might have been a “thank you”, and the two British agents assisted him in lifting his companion and carrying him off into an unoccupied little storage building. They set him down carefully in the back corner, and his companion shrugged off the medical kit strapped to his back. William did the same with his and while the Warsaw operative began to cut his companion’s uniform open to expose the damage, Will gave the wounded one a dose of morphine from a syrette.

"Ronald, help me hold him down while his companion works over him," he said, having to holler over the noise of screams and gunfire. He ignored the shaking, bloody hand that reached up to grip his sleeve. The officer was in shock, instinctively seeking comfort from the first reaper he saw.

Ronald nodded and abandoned his post he had made for himself as a look-out. It wasn’t as if they were on a battle field, after all. Nothing was exploding or falling from the sky. They only had to worry about stray bullets; which weren’t a problem yet in their location.  
  
The blond crouched down next to the injured reaper, firmly holding him down to help keep him still as the reaper’s partner began to dig out the bullet. “Hey, it’ll be alright.” He offered in a comforting voice between cries of pain.

The injured one’s partner said something in Polish that sounded like a question, and Will shook his head grimly. “Apologies,” he said in German—just in case the man happened to speak it, “I don’t speak the language.”

Evidently, neither of the Polish agents spoke German or English—or the injured one was too distracted to answer. As the taller one began to try to work the bullets out, Grell and Jeffries came into the building. William looked up at them. Knowing Grell didn’t speak Polish, he inquired of the junior officer assisting him. “Mister Jeffries, can you interpret Polish?”

Alexander blinked and shrugged. “I speak a little, yeah. I’m not fluent, though.”

"I need you to ask these officers if they can make it to the nearest portal to their headquarters, or if they will need an escort."

Alexander nodded and started to move away from the open doorway to attempt communication. Before he could take so much as two steps, there was a dull popping sound and he jerked, eyes going wide. He looked down at the blood blossoming on his ragged shirt where the bullet passed through, tearing a hole in flesh and cloth. Shock was evident on his features. He started to buckle and William swore, leaving off the Polish agent for the moment to catch him.

"Grell, shut that bloody door and help me with your partner," he snapped.

“‘M okay,” Alex tried to reassure, but he coughed blood. “It went all th’ way through.”

"Yet you still need time for your body to mend the hole it punched through your lung," admonished William, draping one of the younger reaper’s arms around his shoulder while putting the other arm around his waist. He half-dragged him over to the crates near the injured Warsaw operative, and he eased him down. "Now sit and rest, while we finish assisting with this man. When you can speak coherently, I want you to convey my inquiry to these men, to the best of your abilities. Sutcliff, see to your partner while we assist with this agent." 

"Damn it, can they stop shooting the death gods?!" Ronald cursed, "They should shoot the demons if they can’t stick to each other!"  
  
“Ronnie! Toss me your handkerchief.” Grell asked, holding out his hand.  
  
Ronald grunted and shifted to get the cloth from his back pocket, tossing it over so that Grell could use it to help apply pressure to Alex’s wound.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you to not get shot today?” Grell scolded his partner, “I told you to be extra careful with the increased danger of today’s death events!”

"Wasn’t my fault," coughed Alex. "I was coming in when it hit me. S-sorry, boss Sutcliff."

"Any one of us could be hit by a stray bullet in this conflict," reminded William. "But maintaining a non-corporeal state while reaping is too taxing, and it would attract the attention of any demons in the area. Just concentrate on slowing the blood flow while it mends."

The injured Warsaw operative gagged in pain as his partner removed a second bullet, and he grabbed Ronald’s sleeve just for something to hold on to. William glanced at him, then at Jeffries. “Be grateful yours passed all the way through instead of getting lodged. This operative is going to be weakened from blood loss by the time his companion digs out the last of the slugs. Jeffries, do you think you can translate my question to his partner now?”

"I…I’ll try," he said, turning his head to look at the Polack. He cleared his throat and relayed William’s question to him. At first the man gave him a confused look, and Alex tried again, changing a word or two. The Polish reaper looked down at his partner and he nodded slowly, speaking back to the British operative.

"Uh…he says he wants a prostitute," said Alex uncertainly. "Oh, wait…no. That was escort. Yeah, he says an escort would be helpful."

William nodded. “We’ll wait for some of the conflict to die down around us and give both injured parties the chance to close their wounds, before helping these men to their home portal. We all go together. I can sense rising demonic activity in the area and we cannot risk separation at this time.”

"Good thing they want an escort. I doubt there are any street walkers anywhere around here." Ron muttered his joke, yet didn’t smile as he normally would. He sighed and took the shot reaper’s hand, holding it firmly for comfort.  
  
“Not the time for jokes, Ronnie.” Grell said, applying more pressure to Alexander Jeffries’ wound. “It’d be handy if you would grow the skin back together already….”

"I’m…working on it, sir," promised the auburn-haired reaper with a sickly grin. His bangs had fallen over his eyes and he reached up with a bloody hand to brush them back, only to see the blood and change his mind. He opted to blow said fringe out of his eyes instead. "I think it’s closing up already."

The Warsaw agent dug the final bullet out of his companion and with William’s help he put pressure on the wounds and waited for them to close up. Bullets couldn’t kill them, but enough blood loss could put a reaper into a coma and thus make him vulnerable to demons and any other enemies with the means to kill them.

"Five minutes," said William. "That should be enough time for both of your injuries to close up enough to move you. We cannot remain here in this condition. There is too much demonic activity surrounding us."

"I wish I had brought my mower scythe… It’d clear a path through the demons like that!" Ronald stated, snapping his fingers.  
  
“I have my chainsaw.” Grell said, “I’ll lead the way.”

"Agreed," said William. "Jeffries, please try to convey that plan to our companions."

Alex nodded and clumsily translated for the two Polish officers. He had to try a couple of times to get the message across, but they seemed to get it and they both nodded in agreement.

"Your bleeding has stopped…but don’t move yet. You don’t want to risk it reopening." Grell sighed, examining his partner’s wounds. "So…Willy, how’s my little Trainee working out for you as a partner?"

William got up, brushed off his uniform and waked over to the door to open it a crack and check outside. “Ronald has done commendable work on the field since this began,” he answered frankly. “His technique could use improvement, but under the circumstances I think he’s conducted himself well.”

He narrowed his eyes, noting that the activity in the streets outside had ceased. “The conflict has moved to other parts of the ghetto,” he announced, looking back at his companions. “This is our chance to leave and escort these gentlemen to their portal. Sutcliff, I would recommend that once we see these Warsaw officers off, you and Jeffries retire to your reaper accommodations for the remainder of the day and pick up where you left off tomorrow. Our orders state that if either partner is significantly wounded, both should take time to recover before resuming assignments. We all need to be at our best in such a situation and it would be quite inconvenient to lose either of you. We are short-staffed enough as it is.”

"What about you guys?" asked Jeffries.

William glanced at Ronald. “Considering neither of us is injured, we shall resume our assigned collections for this area after seeing you all safely delivered to your respective portals. There are still other Shinigami operating in this area and each division has been instructed to report any demon sightings to their headquarters, to be relayed to all other operatives in the area. Knox and I should be fine.”

"Don’t worry about us, Sutcliff-senpai!" Ronald grinned at the redhead, "I’ll make sure Spears-senpai stays safe and gets back to London safely—and not missing any pieces! Especially the sexy bits." he winked.  
  
“You make sure you watch out for yourself, too, Ronnie-boy. I’d hate to loose any part of my favorite little brother.”

"Very touching," muttered William. "Gentlemen, are you ready?"

Alexander got to his feet with Grell’s help, and he relayed the question to the Warsaw agents. The taller of the two helped his recovering partner to his feet and he nodded.

"Let’s blow this popsicle stand," grunted Jeffries, more than ready to get out of this place and take a break from the slaughter.

"Very well, then." William took Grell’s place supporting Alexander. "Sutcliff, take the lead. Ronald, watch our rear. We’ll go straight to these gentlemen’s portal first, and then see the two of you off to yours."

"Right away, darling~" Grell said, his scythe appearing in his hand with a flash as he yanked open the doors and ran out. The sound of the motor roaring to life soon joining the sounds of guns and cries. Not looking back to see if the others were following, Grell cut threw a group of lesser demon creatures. Imps that were more a nuisance than a danger compared to the higher ranking demons.  
  
Ronald hurried after the others, keeping an eye out behind them in case some demon attacked from behind or another raid of bullets rained down upon them.

William kept his scythe ready, and Jeffries manifested his as well. The uninjured Warsaw operative also drew his scythe; which was a more practical form like Ronald’s in the shape similar to a training sickle. William extended his scythe to pin a demon against the wall in passing that Grell had missed, skewering it and dropping it to the ground as they passed by. This was not good; the place was literally crawling with the denizens of Hell, and they would be fortunate not to encounter any greater demons as they trudged on.

They made it to the Warsaw portal and William hurried his Polish companions through, before casting a grim look at his fellow London officers.

"Keep moving," he ordered. "And for Heaven’s sake, watch out for stray bullets."

"Like the one that almost hit your foot?" Grell asked, pointing to the hole in the dirt right next to William’s toe.  
  
“Misses are lucky. Lets go before we get pumped full of lead!” Ronald urged, not liking how open the area was around this particular portal.

"Good luck, friends," William said cordially to the two Polish reapers as they went through the portal. He tipped his hat at them as they vanished with thankful farewells, and he looked at his companions.

"Now we need to move south. Sutcliff, are you ready?"

"Duck!" Ron shouted, ducking under the path of a bullet aimed at his head.  
  
“Good eye, Ronnie. Let’s go.” Grell took off in the lead again. “Incoming demons!” He warned a moment later as dark black creatures caught sight of them and took off towards their small group in obvious hope of getting a collection of fresh souls. Lower demons weren’t the smartest things, and didn’t know they wouldn’t be able to get souls back out of a scythe.

William turned and impaled one of them before it could leap out at Grell. Though he was weakened from his healing injury, Alexander summoned his weed-whacker and got the gold colored blades spinning—just in time to fend off another one that made a try for him.

"Hah! Thought I’d be an easy mark?" he challenged with a grin as the spinning blade cut into the creature’s torso.

"Don’t get cocky," warned William. "We are fortunate these are lesser devils. It could easily have been something more challenging."

"Yes sir," agreed the junior officer contritely. The only thing scarier than a demon noble was William T. Spears when he was angry. Having been on the receiving end of that anger before, Jeffries could appreciate that and he wisely kept further taunts to himself.

"Uh….We have a problem back here!" Ronald shouted suddenly, his scythe just finished cutting through a small dog-like lesser demon that had jumped him.  
  
But that hadn’t been the problem. Beyond Ronald a very large demon that towered over the four reapers. Its round head split open wide by a drooling mouth far too large to look natural and lines with rows of spindled teeth. It’s small beady eyes almost non-existent and could only be seen as they glowed red. It had three twisted horns angling out it’s skull, it’s skin was a black leathery texture covered in a mucus that smelled of decay and bone-like spikes lined down it’s back, across it’s shoulders, along it’s long clawed arms, and covering the backs of it’s curved legs. It’s feet were more like large deadly needles that it balanced on, and it’s long spiked tail hinted at being poisonous with the red and orange tip on a stinger similar to a scorpion’s.  
  
It wasn’t a demon noble, but it wasn’t a simple imp, low-level demon, either. And it’s tiny eyes were locked on the four reapers as it charged them. A deafening roar drowned out all other sounds of battle and slaughter.

Alexander took one look behind him and he shouted in alarm and a bit of disgust at the sight of the creature bearing down on them. William fell back with Ronald, urging his other two companions on.

"Leave this one to us," he called out. "Focus on keeping the path ahead clear!"

"R-right," agreed Jeffries with a faintly anxious look. He forced his attention off the large demon and he moved closer to Grell.

William’s scythe shot out at the demon, but it avoided the hit with surprising dexterity. Perturbed, he tried again and this time he managed to drive the blade on the end of it home into the demon’s shoulder. It roared and grasped the pole of the scythe, yanking it and the reaper attached to the other end of it. “Now, Ronald,” hollered William—just before getting slammed into the side of a building.

Assuming William would be bruised, but otherwise fine, Ronald charged the distracted hell-spawn, raising his scythe as he leapt up to attack. The creature was a little more than double his size, so his goal was to leap high enough to get at it’s softer bits rather than the bony parts. He could cause it more pain that way and distract it further, hopefully for long enough to where William could shake the blow he’d been dealt and make another attack.  
  
Successfully, he came down, his scythe cutting deep into the creature’s stomach and expelling putrid black blood that smelled worse than the mucus. Getting covered in it, the blond gagged and didn’t move quickly enough as a bony claw cracked into his side, swatting him away like a fly. He flew a few feet, rolling across the dirt ground and into a puddle near a building.  
  
“Shit…uhg, guy needs more than a bath—Damn…”

William staggered aside just in time to avoid another hit when the demon returned its attention to him, holding onto his glasses to keep them from falling off. He speared it in the side—right next to the wound that Ronald had opened up—and he extended his scythe further to pin it against the wall of the building opposite to him.

"Knox, can you finish him?" he queried, glancing at his companion with veiled concern. He couldn’t see any red blood mingling with the black, but the blond seemed to have taken a decent blow. The demon gnashed its razor sharp teeth and tried to grab his pole again. William shoved it harder against the wall, his lips compressed into a grim line.

Ronald groaned and stood up, finding to his surprise that he’d managed to keep a hold of his scythe. Though he staggered to the side, dizzy from all the rolling he’d done. Regardless, he shook his head to try and clear it before charging again.  
  
The demon lashed out with it’s deadly tail, and Ronald tripped over it in trying to avoid the stinger. Demonic poison would take a hell of a lot longer to recover from compared to a bunch of bullets.  
  
Again, the demon’s tail swung at him, and he had no choice but to defend, swinging his scythe and cutting the stinger off before he could roll over and push himself up.  
  
Ron’s head was buzzing from the scream the demon gave off, but he continued on his path, still slightly disoriented. He jumped again, trying for a killing blow as a spiked arm swung back at him. Realizing he’d not make it in time to his target, Ron threw his scythe seconds before he was hit. A bone-like spike impaling him through his rubs just below his heart where it became stuck.  
  
His scythe twirled through the air and at the same time Ronald was hit, his scythe made a clean cut through the demon’s neck, nearly decapitating it completely.  
  
Ronald’s scream of pain was the only one heard. As the demon staggered forward, it’s claw aimed directly at William.

The supervisor managed to dodge enough so that it was only a glancing blow, but he didn’t get away unscathed. His uniform got ripped and blood flowed from the scratch he couldn’t completely avoid…but his main concern now was for Ronald.

"Sutcliff! Jeffries! Get back here!"

As the demon fell twitching, it dragged poor Ronald with it to the broken pavement. William lunged for the blond and pulled him free of the spike impaling him, clamping a hand over the resulting wound in his torso. “Knox,” he murmured, sweat beading his forehead. It was a bad injury, and Ronald was already going pale. He could easily begin going into shock.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Alex, wide-eyed as he came running back and skidded to a stop.

"I think the answer to that question is rather obvious," grunted William. He lifted Ronald carefully in his arms as Grell rejoined them. "Knox, speak to us. Stay alert."

"Nnygh…" Ronald’s head lulled against William’s arm, "Did…I get ‘im?" he coughed, blood peppering his lips.  
  
“I’ll kill it!” Grell growled, revving up his scythe to take to the twitching demon, “No one hurts my Ronnie!”

Alexander joined him, starting up his scythe to help him dispatch the creature for good. William kept a wary eye out as he held his injured companion securely. “You did well, Ronald,” he assured him. “Just try to stay focused. We will go through the portal with our companions get you some medical attention on the other side.”

"It sure got me…" he groaned, starting to shift but regretting it right away as more pain shot through his body. "Sor…ry….Senpai…"  
  
Behind them the demon’s records shot into the air, playing out a long, but uneventful life. All the thing ever did was grow and eat. When it was done, the creature’s body turned to ash and Grell picked up Ronald’s scythe, not wanting it to be left behind where a demon could get a hold of it.  
  
“It’s gone—time to move, Will.”

William nodded and started off immediately, doing his best not to jar the young reaper in his arms. Jeffries flanked them while Grell took the lead again, both of them keeping an eye out for any further threats. They eventually made it to the open portal, and Will stepped through first with Ronald. There were portal guards waiting on the other side and William quickly gave them his name and rank, unable to show his badge due to having his arms full of his injured partner. He had to direct them to take it out of his jacket pocket themselves for confirmation, and they had to do the same with Ronald.

"Hospital?" he asked, hoping they could understand English or German. Fortunately, they could. After examining Grell and Alex’s identification badges, they pointed out the way for them. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said with some relief.

Trusting his companions to keep up with him, he wasted no time. Fortunately, the hospital was in walking distance, so there was no need to hail a cab. By the time he made it up the steps and through the door, he was a bit winded—but he stubbornly refused to let go of Ronald until they brought out a stretcher for him.

"It’s going to be all right," he assured the blond as the medical team eased him out of his arms and onto the stretcher. His own blood from the scratch he’d all but forgotten was staining Ron’s clothes along with the rest. "Just cooperate with them, Knox. We won’t be far."

"You ought to let them check you out too, sir," suggested Alex with a nod at William’s arm. "That could go septic fast."

Will glanced down at his arm, just now feeling the pain of the injury. “Yes, that can be seen to after they’ve brought Ronald to an examination room. His injuries take priority over mine in severity.”

"Hate…Hospitals…" Ronald moaned as he was wheeled away quickly. But he was so weak that he couldn’t protest, only lay there attempting not to pass out from pain—which turned out to be pointless as they applied a mask to his nose and mouth to make him relax before they started working. At least the pain was gone.  
  
Grell sighed, “As if Jeffries’s getting shot and that other guy getting shot wasn’t enough… Now Ronnie’s got a huge hole in his middle…what’s it from? Not a stinger I hope?”

William watched them work over his subordinate from outside the room they’d brought him into, and he shook his head. “No. It was a spike on the foul creature’s arm. His body should heal well enough without scarring, but he’ll lose too much blood and risk infection if it isn’t properly treated and bound.”

He sighed, wondering why his heart was beating so fast. He hadn’t expected the surge of alarm that went through him when he saw Ronald take that blow. He’d actually believed they might get through this mission unscathed. How wrong he’d been about that.

"Jeffries, how is your injury?" he asked without taking his eyes off Ronald. "Do you believe it needs medical attention?"

The auburn-haired reaper tugged his shirt up a little to look. The bullet hole had already closed and he bore only a faint mark from the experience. “I’m okay, sir. I could just use some rest before going on another reaping assignment, I think.”

William nodded. “Good. You and Sutcliff should retire to your accommodations for the rest of the day, then. I shall contact you with an update on Knox’s condition when they’ve finished seeing to him.”

What a horrid start to their Warsaw assignments.

Grell looked a little hesitant to leave; he was so used to working with Ronald rather than anyone else. And while Ronald wasn’t in the habit of getting seriously injured on the field, they had always stayed by each other’s side when either of them got hurt But Ronnie was William’s partner currently…  
  
The redhead sighed, “Then you stay with him—and send me word when he’s been cleared!”

* * *

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

William stood watch over Ronald after they finished up with him and moved him into a private room. Night had fallen, and after getting his own mild injury treated, William went to the hotel room they were staying in to shower, change into more casual attire and bring back Ronald a change of uniform and a pair of his boxers for comfort. He called Sutcliff to update him on their status, turned in their collections and reports and he stopped for something to eat on the way back. Once he returned to the hospital, he couldn’t seem to decide what to do with himself.

So he stood there in the dark, waiting for his young partner to awaken and musing over recent events. He told himself he’d fetched clothing for Ronald for practicality’s sake. After all, leaving in a hospital gown when he was released would have been rather impractical, and Ronald would need the boxers to wear with his fresh uniform…unless he preferred briefs under his clothing. William hadn’t taken the time to go through his bag. He simply grabbed the first pair of underwear and socks he’d seen and combined them with the uniform. They were fortunate that Dispatch had seen fit to order extras for them both. Evidently it was a difficult thing for reaper agents to avoid damaging their assigned uniforms during this war.

Ronald began to fret in his sleep, and William watched him indecisively. It wasn’t in his nature to give comfort to others, yet it troubled him to see the boy sweating and writhing, his lips blurting hints of the nightmares that plagued him. After a few moments of this, the Dispatch director approached his subordinate and he leaned over him.

"Ronald Knox," he murmured, "do stop that fussing. You are safe."

It didn’t seem to do much good, and William cleared his throat and looked around. For some fool reason, he was self-conscious even though he knew they were alone in the room. Nobody would see it if he offered Knox just a bit of compassion and comfort. He hesitantly reached out to stroke the younger reaper’s dual-colored hair, brushing his yellow-blond bangs away from his sweat-beaded forehead.

"Ronald," he said again, placing his other hand atop the boy’s. "It’s over. You are going to be all right."

Ronald let out a small moan on his breath, his head turning to the right before his eyes fluttered open, slowly blinking at the blurry silhouette standing over him. A gentle hand was stroking his hair back out of his face.  
  
He grimaced as the pain also slowly faded in to his consciousness, “Please tell me you are the angel of painkillers…”

William almost cracked a smile. “Not quite, but they have equipped your glucose drip with a morphine injector.” He took his hand off Ronald’s and he reached for the trigger button to give it to him. “All you need do is press down on it and it will give you a dose to ease the pain.”

He sighed and stepped back, watching as Ronald pressed down on the button. “That was an impressive injury you earned, Knox. I am afraid you’ll be out of commission for a couple of days, at least. The doctors say you can possibly be released as early as tomorrow, depending on how quickly you heal. Even so, you aren’t to do any further field work until you’ve rested more. In the meantime, I suppose I shall take on assignments alone, or try to arrange for a temporary partner from within the Warsaw Dispatch. It’s a small branch, so I doubt I will have any luck with that.”

"Yeah…but who’ll watch your back? You didn’t get out unscathed, either." The blond smirked, waiting as the pain started to fade, "Sorry I made the wrong move back there…I don’t remember much but I’m guessing I should have aimed lower…"

"The demon was very fast," reminded William, "and we had little time to form a solid plan of attack. All things considered, you did well. Our mission plan is to gather as many records as possible and to survive. I believe we could have done worse."

He pulled the sheets up further over Ronald’s prone form in another uncommonly solicitous gesture. “Just rest and recuperate, Mr. Knox. I will be fine until you have recovered enough to rejoin me in the field.”

"What are you doing here so late? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?" Ron asked, shifting his position slightly against the pillow. "Or do none of the medical staff speak English or Italian and you had to be here to tell me things when I woke up?"

It was on the tip of William’s tongue to make the convenient excuse that Ronald had just unwittingly provided and lie to him. Instead, he smirked ruefully and looked away. “You are my underling and my partner in this endeavor,” he said coolly. “As such, I have a responsibility to you. I chose to return and check in on you, before retiring for the evening. I’ve brought a clean uniform for you to change into when they release you…simply because you did not see fit to pack anything other than socks and underwear. I will return in the morning to check on your progress again.”

He straightened his tie and adjusted his glasses. “Do try and get as much rest as you can, Ronald Knox.”

"Not like I have needed anything else but socks and Boxers." Ron pointed out with a small shrug, "Are you going to be going back to the hotel, or are you going to play with my hair as I sleep again?" he smirked.

William was glad that he’d turned away at that moment, because he felt his cheeks grow warm. He was not the sort of man to blush. He paused on his way to the door and he schooled his voice into a neutral tone. “I was merely attempting to soothe your fretting before you upset your injury,” he excused. “I was not ‘playing with your hair’. Goodnight, Mr. Knox. I shall see you in the morning.”

Ronald smiled and gave a small chuckle, “Good night. Don’t miss me too much.” He sighed as the door closed. _'I think he likes me.'_ he thought to himself as he closed his eyes to let himself drift back off to sleep.

 

 

 

* * *

While their companions were trying to recover from their ordeals in Poland, Eric and Alan were trying to run the office in their absence. It was driving the Scotsman crazy, and he had to wonder if Spears was completely off his nut to come in and do this every day. Everyone had questions for him or Alan. Nothing seemed to go smoothly. If it wasn’t an error in death reports, it was an error with the filing…or with the death lists themselves. It appeared someone in Personnel was slacking off and sending out death lists with names on them that had already been collected.

"Och, fer tha love o’…Alan, do ya have officer Randall’s folder o’er there? I told tha man tae put it on _my_ desk. Told ‘im twenty times by now tha’ death reports are fer mah desk an’ department reports are fer yers!”

"Hold on, let me check." Alan said shifting through the piles of folders on his own desk, "Nope, it isn’t here. Sorry. But I think these belong in your pile." He handed over a stack of folders as he let out a little yawn into his free hand—which happened to be holding a pen which drew a line of black ink onto his cheek without his knowing, "And I think I need a quick pick-me-up…"

Eric noticed the mark his partner had inadvertently put on his face and his temper rapidly cooled, to be replaced by amusement. He snorted and he stood up. “I’ll say ye do. Ya jus’ drew on yer face, kid.” Grinning, he took Alan’s pen from him and he reached for a tissue from his desktop. He licked it and he began to wipe the smaller reaper’s cheek off with it.

"Uhg, Eric! I could have just got it in the bathroom with soap and water!" Alan protested the spit-cleaning treatment. He looked up at Eric with his big, innocent eyes. "I thought only mothers did that!"

Still grinning, the Scotsman shrugged. He balled up the paper towel and tossed it into the trash. “Jus’ takin’ care of mah partner, is all.” Unable to resist the cute expression on his face, he cupped Alan’s chin and lowered his mouth to his for a little kiss. “Yer tha only thing keeping me sane  righ’ now. I’ve go’ a new appreciation for wha’ Spears does every day.”

"Ah…" Alan’s eyes were wider, staring up at Eric unblinkingly as his fingers moved up to touch his own shocked lips. A complete lack of words coming to them.  
  
Eric had…kissed him? Eric Slingby—his partner—the office ‘stud’—had _kissed_ him.  
  
He didn’t even want to think about how red his cheeks had gotten.

Realizing what he’d just done, Eric’s usually lazy gaze widened as well behind the blue-tinted lenses of his glasses. What was _that_? He’d thought about doing it before, sure, but _now_ of all times? He blamed it on fatigue…and of course, Alan’s cuteness.

"Uh, heh…" The Scotsman scratched his head self-consciously, trying to come up with some excuse. "Tha’ was…spur o’ tha moment. Sorry. Ya jus’ looked sae cute an’ I wasnae thinking straight."

He almost snorted at his inadvertent pun, and he wondered if Alan could even understand him, his accent was so thick right now. He cleared his throat and sucked his teeth in thought. “Why do ya have tae be s’ damned sweet, anyway? Ah, its no’ yer fault…it’s mine.” He made himself look into those round eyes and he smirked. “Gonna report me fer sexual harassment, Alan?”

But Alan’s face only grew redder as Eric spoke, making excuses.  
  
It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. After all, he couldn’t say how many times he’d awoken with a hard-on due to what he’d see in his dreams. The things he’d fantasized about doing with Eric…the cold showers he’d have to endure when he got home from work after Eric had said or done something on the ride home since they normally carpooled. But he never once thought anything would _actually_ happen! And just now Eric had…  
  
“You…kissed me?” he whispered.

Eric nodded, bracing himself for a slap or a pinch or a lecture. “Mm-hmm. I did.”

He almost started babbling more excuses, but the more he looked at his partner, the more he began to suspect the kiss wasn’t entirely unwelcome…and the more he wanted to do it again. That was just a peck, really…nothing compared to the sort of kisses he usually delivered to interested parties. Alan’s lips had been soft and yielding against his during that brief contact, and some devil took hold of him to see if he could push it a little further, rather than try to blow it off as a fluke.

Eric leaned in closer and he smiled lazily at the smaller man. “Want ano’er one?”

"Only…if you mean it…" Alan tried to whisper but his voice cracked from nerves.

Pleasantly surprised by the answer, Eric didn’t hesitate. He cupped the back of Alan’s head, dropped the pen to the floor and put his other arm around him to pull his body flush against his own. His mood went from teasing to serious as he stared into Alan’s eyes for a moment, before lowering his mouth to his for another kiss…and this one was no mere peck on the lips. He hadn’t fully appreciated how much he’d really been wanting this until he did it, and he felt a thrill go through him as he slipped his tongue past Alan’s lips and into his mouth, kissing him with demanding passion that surprised even himself.

Alan gave a muffled gasp of surprise. He hadn’t expected another kiss under the requirement of ‘meaning it’. Eric was such a flirt, after all. With both men and women around the dispatch building and the occasional human while out on assignment.  
  
But those lips were all too real. The strong lips massaging against his soft ones, the hair on his chin tickling against his hairless one, arms around his body holding him close—and the tongue…  
  
Alan practically jumped as he began to kiss back, his arms sliding around behind the Scotsman’s neck as his eyes closed. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it felt like it was.

Eric ravished his mouth for several minutes, doing things with his tongue and lips that could easily make a reserved man like Alan feel violated—but Eric couldn’t bring himself to stop. He hadn’t expected it to have quite this effect on him, and he wondered if it was due in part to him always considering his partner off-limits. Maybe it was the thrill of kissing someone he probably shouldn’t be kissing. Whatever it was, he felt like he could spend the rest of the afternoon just tasting and exploring Alan’s mouth.

He made himself stop and withdraw when he caught himself trying to grind against the smaller reaper. Breathing heavily, he pulled back and he dragged his lust back into its box to seal it up tight—or at least moderately enough so as not to control him.

"Guess I meant it," he breathed, staring at that charmingly flushed, upturned face.

The brunet was left panting as if they had made mad-passionate love right there in the space between their desks. And truly, he felt as if they had in a way, with how Eric had lay claim to every inch of his mouth. And he wish it hadn’t ended.  
  
“…Eric…I…” he swallowed, trying to find his voice again.

The blond traced Alan’s parted, kiss swollen lips with his thumb. He smiled crookedly at him, pleased with his stunned reaction. He was feeling a bit dizzy himself. He badly wanted to do it again, but he didn’t plan any of this and he owed it to his partner to at least give him a moment to think about how he felt about it.

"So who’s mah competition?" he murmured, reluctantly admitting to himself that it was entirely possible his partner already had another love interest. They generally didn’t discuss such things because he got the feeling it always annoyed Alan to hear about it. Now he wondered if that was jealousy…and he realized he hated the thought of someone else kissing Alan the way he just did.

"I think…the better question is who’s mine," Alan admitted after another moment of trying to find his voice. "You flirt with everyone—who are the serious ones?" He asked it, but feared the answer. Feared Eric had more he kissed with meaning.  
  
Alan’s one and only kiss had been from a drunken Ronald when he’d gone to get the party boy from the pub late one night after the bartender called around looking for someone who knew the blond who could go take him home. Ronald hadn’t even remembered it. Hardly ‘competition’.

Eric huffed a little and smirked wryly. “I havenae had a ‘serious one’ since I graduated th’ academy. I go on dates a lo’, sure, but there’s nobody special.”

"Then…can I be your next ‘serious’ one?" Alan asked, hopeful. "Can I become ‘special?"

Eric’s affection for this reaper swelled even further in response to that sweet, endearing request. He gave him a squeeze and he smiled down at him. “Pretty sure ye already are ‘special’ tae me, Alan…an’ I think if there’s anyone I’d want tae be exclusive wi’, it’d be you. I jus’ ne’er thought ye’d go fer me, seeing as yer so quiet natured an’ responsible, an’ I’m so loud an’ flirty.”

He combed his fingers through the smaller reaper’s soft brown hair. “Think ya could handle being wi’ a rogue like me? I’d like tae try, anyhow.”

"Do you think I’d date myself?" Alan countered, "That would get pretty boring to be with someone too much like myself. Besides… I… have liked you for a long time, and if I can handle you as my mentor and then as my partner, then how much worse can it be as my boyfriend?" As he spoke the red in his cheeks spread to his ears.

Eric chuckled and he tweaked one of Alan’s ears, stroking his thumb over the sensitive lobe. “I love tha way ya blush, Al. Makes me want tae kiss ye again. Oh, I’ve go’ conditions, by tha way. Ye’ve gotta let me kiss ya like tha’ at least twice a day, an’ we go out on dates when we’ve go’ tha time tae spare fer it…even if it’s jus’ a nice dinner now an’ then…or a movie night at my place or yers.”

Alan’s heart skipped a beat, “I may be new to dating…but isn’t going on dates a big part of it?” He asked, “But please, keep the big kisses to more…private locations. We need to maintain a professional attitude in the work place.” He bit his lip and let his eyes drift down to Eric’s lips that had been covering his moments before.

"I’ll at least lock tha door tae th’ office, next time," promised Eric with a wink, "but we’ve been practically living in tha office since Spears an’ tha others went off tae help wi’ tha war casualties. Gotta get mah kisses in somehow, sweetheart."

"There is also before and after work." Alan pointed out, though he found himself pulling himself up to steal another kiss himself, his lips pressing against Eric’s.

The taller reaper put his arms around him and deepened the kiss, unable to help himself. He lifted Alan in his arms, his tongue again pushing into his mouth to make love to his. He didn’t mean to let it go that far again, but gods help him, the taste and feel of his partner was everything and more he’d ever imagined it would be. After ravishing his mouth anew for a few moments, he set him back down and reluctantly broke the kiss.

"Fer someone tha’ wants tae save tha kissing fer off-work hours," he teased breathlessly, "yer kinda smoochy."

"Give me a break! I’m new to this. And you are a whole lot better at it than an overly drunk Ronald that I am trying to get to go home before he’ll further regret partying so much." Alan rested his head against Eric’s shoulder and slowly inhaled his manly scent. "…And I’ve dreamed of this…"

Eric chuckled. “If I’d known tha’, I woulda kissed ye a lot sooner.”

Someone knocked on their office door and Eric hastily stepped away from his companion, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with someone seeing them in such an intimate position. “Come in,” he said, and a young Dispatch recruit entered with a handful of documents.

"Sirs, I have the latest reports from Director Spears and Officer Sutcliff!"

Eric nodded and crossed the room to take them. “Thanks. Yer dismissed.”

He made sure to lock the door behind the recruit and he started reading the documents as his partner came up behind him. “Hmm, Knox go’ hurt by a demon,” he muttered. “Guess the streets in Warsaw were rife wi’ ‘em once shit hit tha fan an’ he took a hit bringin’ it down. It says he’s recovering fine but he’ll be out of commission fer a couple of days…oh shite…boss is crazy! He’s planning tae go out reaping alone in that mess while Ronnie’s recovering!”

"The man’s gone mad!" Alan gasped, looking around Eric’s shoulder at the report. "Solo missions are highly discouraged during war times in the mortal realm. So many things can go wrong. I would have thought Mister Spears would be one of the first to realize that and follow the encouraged protocol."

Eric nodded in full agreement. “Somethin’ must have go’ into him. Remember how he defended Germans when we were discussing tha mission before they left? Makes me wonder if this is all starting tae get tae him more than he’s lettin’ on.”

"It’s possible.," agreed Alan. "As much as he comes off as the strong, perfect reaper figure here in London Dispatch, he’s still just a reaper like all of us…and war…can break people. That’s what happened to the Undertaker, after all, and he was a legend. War gets to the best of us if we aren’t careful." Alan sighed and dropped off his tiptoes, troubled.  
  
Undertaker’s retirement had been their story of caution back in his days as a student. After learning of all the great things the man had done, his story ended during a war. What he had seen and lived through back then had proven to be too much and mentally damaged him. Retirement had been encouraged after that for his own good. There was more to the story, Alan was sure, but the basics of it was all that was ever shared with the public.

"Och, I hope tha boss doesnae follow tha’ path," muttered Eric. "Then we’ll be stuck in this job fer gods know how long…" He saw the look Alan gave him and he revised his words a bit. "…or somethin’ less selfish. Think we ought tae try an’ reach Grell an’ Ronnie? See if they can keep a closer eye on him?"

"It’s all we can do, really. We’re stuck here while Mister Spears is off helping the German reapers." Alan nodded. "Hopefully Ronald won’t be out of commission long and Spears doesn’t get into trouble working alone during that time."

"Aye," sighed Eric. He rubbed his partner’s shoulder and he leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Want tae handle tha phone calls while I finish up this paperwork? Yer better at talking sense intae people an’ working out solutions tae delicate matters than meself."

"I’m better at most in-office things than you." Alan pointed out, flushing. "Uhm," he shifted and fiddled with his fingers, "But tonight after work…maybe…we could go out together?" he bit his lip and glanced up at the handsome Scotsman.

Eric had to resist the strong and sudden urge to hug the endearing brunet tightly. He grinned and winked at him. “Try tae stop me, partner. We can go wherever ya like.”

Alan smiled wider, “I look forward to it.” He popped up on his toes to plant a kiss on Eric’s cheek before he spun around and settled back at his desk, shifting a few files around to locate a pen.

Eric stared at his partner for a moment, before shaking himself out of his happy daydreams and getting back to work. He never would have thought he’d end this day with a date he’d been fantasizing about for months. He’d have to make it bloody good and prove to Alan that he could be both devoted and romantic.

~Dun’ screw it up, Slingby. Ye’ve been eyeballing him fer a while now an’ ye cannae afford tae ruin this chance.~

He smirked at his own thoughts. Seduction usually came so easily and naturally to him, but this time he honestly cared about the target of his affections, and he wasn’t just trying to get down his pants. Ronald would probably have a field day if he found out how smitten he really was.

 

 

 

* * *

"Oh come on!" Ronald groaned in frustration, "I feel fine! I won’t pop a stitch if I get up and stretch my legs! Styx, doesn’t _anyone_ here speak English? _Che ne dici di italiano? Qualcuno di voi sa che? Io non ho intenzione di morire se mi alzo in piedi per pochi secondi!”_ Finding his attempts to be useless, Ron flopped back and tried to smother himself with a pillow. “German hospitals are even worse than normal ones!” he complained to himself. He hated being stuck in bed all day and the nurses refused to let him get up to stretch his legs.

William arrived a few minutes later, and he brought in Ronald’s phone with him. “They were holding it at the nurse station,” he informed the blond. He arched a brow. “Is there a particular reason you’ve got the pillow covering your face, Mister Knox?”

He offered the device to him. “Check your messages. One is from myself, as I was unaware they’d taken your phone away. I’ve no idea who the others are from.”

"I’m trying to leave this bed-stuck life." Ron groaned, pushing the pillow up and taking the phone, "They won’t even let me stretch my legs and don’t speak English or Italian. I’m going crazy in here. Please tell me you have come to save me from the hospital!"

William refrained from smirking. “That would depend on their prognosis of your recovery, Knox. If they say you need another day of observation, then that’s exactly what we are going to do.”

His phone began to ring and he frowned, reaching into his pocket for it. “William T. Spears.”

It was Grell. The supervisor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Heavens…I’ve already told you that Knox is on the mend, Sutcliff. How many times must you pester me about it?”

"Ronnie-darling isn’t the only person in your duo that I care about, Will!" Grell’s voice pouted on the other end, "I’m calling about you, hottie."

William’s brows hedged slightly. “I beg your pardon? I was relatively unscathed in the fight. There is no reason to be concerned about me.”

"And so I thought—but then I heard you acted like an idiot rookie by going out alone on the field!"

The raven-haired agent blinked. “How in Hades…I haven’t…” He sighed. Slingby…or Humphries. He had informed them that he intended to try and complete a few reaps with a local agent or failing that, alone. He had yet to do so, but he thought he’d made it clear that these were targets of the lowest possible personal risk to himself. “I know what I am doing, Grell Sutcliff. I haven’t the time to explain my actions to you.”

"You out-rank me only in position." Grell hummed, "I can still kick your sexy arse if you don’t start using that over sized brain of yours! Wait until Ronnie can go back out."

"Honestly," sighed William. "These collections must be seen to. Now if you don’t mind, I have plans to make. Mind your own assignments, Sutcliff. Good day."

He hung up the phone and replaced it in his pocket, only to find Ronald glaring sternly at him from the bed. The blond’s phone was in one hand and his arms were crossed over his chest. He must have gotten a text concerning William’s plans from one of those meddlers, too.

"What is that look for, Knox?"

"I’m your partner." Ron said, "At least right now for this whole war thing. I know I got hurt and all but don’t you trust me?"

William faltered for a moment, and he impulsively straightened his glasses and looked away. “It isn’t about trust. It’s about getting the work done.”

~All of those people. We are trained to distance ourselves from the moment we join the academy, reminded each day not to falter. Not to identify too strongly with our reaping targets. Even senior officers still get cautioned on such matters. I have never allowed emotion to cloud my judgment or interfere with a job.~

He then noticed that his hand was trembling as he dropped it from his glasses. He blinked at it, perplexed. Why was he trembling? He had seen plenty of gruesome, violent deaths. He had witnessed maiming, disease, animal attacks and all manner of foul play. The only time any mark had ever affected him strongly was his first one, back when he and Grell were still green. After that close call, he’d never allowed it to get to him again.

Or so he believed.

"That’s utter demon shit!" Ron snapped, ignoring the nurse who was trying to get him to lay back down against his pillows, "It’s not about production levels, it’s about safety for both your physical and mental well being! I would have _died_ out there if it weren’t for you—and you could very well suffer the same or worse without me! We work in pairs for a reason and you should know that, _supervisor_ Spears!”

William clenched his jaw, feeling an unreasonable flash of anger. The boy was right, of course. He shouldn’t even be considering this after all of the lecturing he’d done concerning working in pairs, practicing caution and not taking un-necessary risks. What was wrong with him? He felt restless…an odd sense of desperation to get the job finished because…

_~…because I don’t want to do this any longer. I want it over with, and we haven’t even been on this mission for a week, yet. I want to finish our task and put it behind us.~_

William sighed, and he asked the nurse in German to leave them in privacy. She complied and left the room, and William waked over to the window and looked out through the blinds. “Very well. I shall refrain from acting until you are ready to join me on the field again, Ronald Knox.”

His voice and stance seemed too stiff, even for him. He was beginning to feel brittle. He needed to calm himself and regain the stoicism he usually employed.

"There isn’t a set number, you know." Ron offered, sitting up and dangling his legs over the edge of the bed so he could stretch them out a little now that the nurse was gone, "Going out today and collecting a thousand souls won’t make the war end any sooner. And souls will be lost to demons. It’s unavoidable. All we can do is collect as best we can, as safely as we can until the war is over and we can go back home to London."

Another sigh broke past William’s lips, and he smirked ruefully. It seemed Ronald was more the “senpai” here than he was. He turned from the window to look at him, his neon eyes sweeping over the younger reaper. For all his carefree, party-boy antics, Ronald Knox was turning out to be the ideal partner in this endeavor. That surprised him a bit, but it proved his suspicions that the boy was more versatile than most gave him credit for.

"To be honest with you, Mr. Knox, I wasn’t entirely certain why I insisted on you as a partner, when this all began. I looked over my options carefully and you simply seemed like the most logical choice, if I were to leave senior officers behind to monitor Dispatch."

He walked over to Ronald, gazing down at him with studious eyes. “But now I believe a part of me saw something that did no consciously register, at the time. Your adaptability.”

Feeling he’d already said too much and that he was in danger of saying even more, William left it at that. He gave a small polite nod. “My apologies for straying from the goal of this mission. I shall inform the hospital that unless you have immediate need for further medical attention, they are to release you to my care. We will return to our accommodations so that you may recover in more comfort and privacy, and we shall return to our duties as soon as your strength returns in full.”

He turned and walked out then, faintly embarrassed for having let himself go. There was still a feeling of anxiety, frustration and urgency permeating him, but he had not earned his reputation by breaking under pressure.

"Yes… _anything_ to get out of this hospital!” Ron grinned, choosing not to press the more serious matter too much. Praise from William Spears was a rare treat to anyone who worked under him. He wasn’t about to ruin that by pressing the man further.

 

 

 

* * *

A little under an hour later, William arranged for a cab to take them from the hospital to the bed and breakfast they’d been assigned to in the area. After getting Ronald settled in, he ordered room service, reported in to headquarters and last but not least, informed Grell that Ronald was out of the hospital and would be out on the field with him again in a couple of days. He didn’t allow the phone conversation to drag on, still too rattled to handle Grell’s endless inquiries. He and Ronald ate dinner together when it arrived at their room and he was mildly, silently amused at the boy’s frustration when they could only find television channels in Polish and German.

"Oh honestly, Knox," he admonished, "Didn’t you bring any books with you? Puzzles? Games?"

Ronald raised an eyebrow at William, “You really think I’m the kind of guy who wants to sit around reading a book or popping tiny cardboard shapes together to make a picture? What, do you also think I spend my Friday nights playing BINGO?”

William shrugged. “I honestly have no idea what sort of person you are yet, Ronald. I can, however, offer translation if you are so desperate for television entertainment.”

He lay down beside the blond against his better judgment, and he clicked the television remote to the local news. His sock-clad feet sat next to Ronald’s, and he suffered the deplorable urge to nudge the younger reaper’s feet playfully.

_~My gods, Knox…the things you provoke in me.~_

"The news? Really? That’s what you want to watch? More of what we have been out there experiencing on collections?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow, "Can’t we find something more up-lifting to watch?" he asked, reaching over across William to make a grab for the remote.

The brunet shrugged. “Suit yourself. I honestly have no idea what sort of entertainment programs we can expect to find.”

"Anything not depressing and war-related, hopefully." Ron muttered as he flipped through the channels, "How about this?" he asked, stopping on a channel showing the German film _The Blue Angel_ , “Looks like a movie. Could be good.”

William fluffed his pillow and adjusted his glasses, preparing to translate for him. The movie opened with a scene in a college preparatory high school, and the professor by the name of Immanuel Rath had just caught some of his students passing around a photo of the headliner for the local Cabaret, “The Blue Angel”.

"He’s admonishing them for being perverts," explained William as the irate professor punished the students.

Deciding to try and catch his students visiting the forbidden club, the professor went there himself in the next scene. There was no need to translate the infatuation he expressed with the character Lola-Lola, whom his students had been passing around photos of. William continued to translate for Ronald as the movie progressed, and it was with some dismay that he realized the film had romantic overtones. He shifted uncomfortably. He disliked dramatic films due to the emotions expressed in them, and he disliked romance even more.

Ronald chuckled as he watched the movie and listened to William translating what was being said. It was no secret by the tone of the older reaper’s voice that he was slightly uncomfortable with the subject matter of the movie in one way or another. But that was what made it fun. It was so easy to imagine William as being the character Rath in the movie, and Ronald began to wonder what it’d be like to watch William fall in love. As far as he knew, William had never had a real lover, never dated anyone… The closest he had was putting up with the way Grell constantly hung off him.  
  
And there was a few rumors that William did have the occasional one-night-stand, but Ron really didn’t know how much truth there was behind that one. They had been around since before he’d joined dispatch, after all. In reality, he hoped that it was true that William did get some once in a while. There was nothing wrong with casual sex, after all. He’d had it a few times himself—usually while drunk, though. And usually it ended up being awkward the next hungover morning. Even the times he’d awoken with Eric sharing the bed. Eric was his best friend, yes, but the man really wasn’t his type—no matter how good he was in the sack. Plus Eric had a thing for Alan, though he tried to hide it.  
  
“Hey…senpai,” Ron tore his gaze away from the black and white screen to look at William. It probably wasn’t a smart idea to ask him about it, but he was curious.

"Yes?" William kept his eyes on the television, trying to avoid staring at Ronald. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate with the attractive young blond sitting so close to him on the bed.

"Ever get laid?" He asked bluntly.

William was suddenly glad he hadn’t reached for his beverage, because he probably would have choked on it had he been drinking. “I…beg your pardon?” He stared at the boy, thinking he must have misheard him. This was Ronald Knox though—infamous party-boy and flirt. Such a question from him honestly shouldn’t be so surprising.

Ron gave a little shrug, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just curious if the rumors are true or not.”

"What rumors?" Demanded William uncomfortably. People were spreading rumors about his sex life? Oh, but of _course_ they would. He was the supervisor, after all. Office gossip would naturally include speculation on who the boss was sleeping with. He was suddenly curious to hear exactly what people had been saying about him…a thing he would have considered too far beneath him to concern himself with.

"Nothing too bad." Ronald reassured him, "They say that while you never date, you do have the occasional one-night-stand with random people that have no connection with London Dispatch." he shifted and readjusted the pillows behind his back, "Normally it only comes up when some newbie comments on how you need to get laid after you lecture them about some stupid mistake on paperwork."

William flushed a bit and looked away. He owed no explanation to the blond, and yet he offered one anyway, against his better judgment. “I have indulged on occasion, if you must know. I haven’t the time for a relationship, but I do have the same needs as any other reaper. I have…connections that I can rely on for that, when the mood strikes me.”

The last time had been nearly a year ago, and he was beginning to feel said needs more potently, the more time he spent with Knox. One could hardly blame him for that, he reasoned. Ronald was high on the scales of attractiveness, and he had more people swooning over him than William cared to count. Between him and Slingby, it was a wonder anyone at the office got anything done at all.

"What of you?" he asked cautiously, looking at the younger reaper sidelong. "How many of _your_ exploits are truth and how many are exaggeration?”

Ronald let out an amused chuckle and reclined back against the pillows again, “Most are exaggeration, believe it or not. I take a lot of people out on dates, yeah, but not many end up in bed. I take girls out more than guys, but I prefer men to share a bed with. I found a lot of people have started to brag about lies after I take them out. I don’t mind it so I don’t say anything, but last time I got any was a night of too much drinking with Eric four months ago.”

"You and Slingby?" William raised a brow in surprise. That must have been an…interesting encounter, considering both their reputations as amazing lovers. He wondered if they’d woken the whole block, and his imagination caught fire. Again uncomfortable, he returned his attention to the television again—though he’d completely lost interest in the film.

"The two of you don’t seem to suffer any awkward feelings about that," he observed.

"It was awkward the first time it happened," Ron shrugged, "But he’s my best friend and we’re both single so we just figured we could be friends with drunken benefits if we don’t try to talk about what happened after we wake up naked in the same bed. Once one of us gets a serious relationship, though, it’d be over. No more drunken sex."

"That would be…prudent," agreed William. With a little shock, he identified the ugly feeling twisting inside of him as jealousy. He was jealous of Eric Slingby for his friendship with Ronald, and for the benefits he evidently enjoyed at times. He tried to stop visualizing the two of them together that way, gasping, sweating and writhing on the bed. He couldn’t imagine Slingby bottoming, so his mind automatically painted a picture of Ronald doing it. Visualizing him riding the Scotsman was disturbingly easy as well, and he imagined Eric’s hand curling around Ronald’s arousal, stroking it slowly as the panting, moaning blond gyrated on top of him…

_~Oh, honestly! Stop such thoughts at once!~_

His imagination would not comply though, and he soon replaced Eric with himself in the fantasy. What would Ronald’s face look like when he came? Was he a loud lover? Did he like it hard? Rough, perhaps?

William realized he was staring at him, trying to imagine a flush of passion on those cheeks. He had a pleasing body, from what he’d seen…lithe and toned in all the right places. What would it be like to run his hands over the tight muscles of his abdomen, or prop his legs on his shoulders and pound him until he screamed his name?

"Do you prefer taking or receiving?"

His eyes widened briefly as the question left his mouth, and he couldn’t believe he’d blurted it out loud.

Ronald froze, his eyes nearly bulging and his jaw dropping as the unexpected question registered in his mind. His boss—Cold and professional William T. Spears—had just asked him if he liked to be more submissive or dominate in bed? He had to mentally slap himself to avoid staring at him too long like a brainless idiot. Shaking his head, he pulled his legs up to his chest and he tried to repress the light hue of pink upon his cheeks as he looked William straight in the eye.

"I prefer to bottom out. One of the reasons I like men in bed rather than women. Romantically I like both, but sexually I like the feel of a dick doing it’s thing inside me." he gave a little shrug, "I know it surprises a lot of people, but I also like the feel of being dominated. Being a little bit helpless and feel a loss of control over the situation—but only when it’s consensual."

_~Heavens, I just_ had _to ask, didn’t I?~_

William couldn’t tear his eyes off of him, and he imagined binding Ronald’s wrists behind his back, bending him over his desk and giving him the experience of his dick “doing its thing inside him”. It just so happened that true to his nature, William T. Spears enjoyed being in control in his sexual encounters, preferring to dominate his partners. It was just too bloody perfect, and he wondered if Ronald had somehow read his mind and deliberately said that just to tempt him.

"You enjoy being held down?" murmured William, "Restrained and at the mercy of your lover?"

Why couldn’t he stop? His near breakdown from earlier seemed to have jarred something loose…broken down his inhibitions. He never discussed such personal matters with anyone, save his partners when he arranged an encounter. He could hardly believe he was speaking so freely about it, but it _did_ provide the benefit of taking his mind off the horrors of this war.

"Well, yeah." Ron smirked, "It adds a bit of a thrill to the encounter. Not that I’ve had actual lovers. They have all been one time things other than Eric. Had Grell-senpai once, too. Regretted that one, though. He bites…hard. Had the marks for months, and he kept calling me ‘William’ which, you know, was way creepy. If I were you, I’d not give in unless you like biting." Ron shuddered. "He’s a bloody shark in bed. I needed more booze afterwards, there."

William was again surprised. Just how many of their coworkers had Ronald slept with? He wasn’t overly thrilled to hear that Grell was calling _his_ name during it, either. “There is utterly no chance of me giving in to Sutcliff’s advances,” he informed firmly, compressing his lips, “and the only biting I enjoy is light nips. I would neither bottom for him nor top.”

He shuddered as well at the thought—not because he found Grell repulsive to look at, but he could not abide his behavior in any capacity. His thoughts went to the cuffs they carried as part of their issued equipment and he entertained the notion of using them on Ronald. He shook his head and rubbed his temples, wondering why he could not seem to shake these vivid little fantasies. William had never considered himself particularly imaginative, outside the bedroom. He was not a daydreamer and he generally never found himself distracted by lustful thoughts.

Why then could he not bottle them safely up and stop thinking of having his way with the blond?

"I feel a headache coming on," he confessed, annoyed with himself.

"Sorry—but you did ask." Ron shrugged and stretched his legs out in front of him and arching his back with a satisfied groan. Once he relaxed again, he glanced over at William, smirking as he caught sight of how the man was looking at him. Eyes trailing over his body.  
  
“Well damn.” he chuckled, “I know I’m sexy but—don’t tell me you want a bite of the Knoxwurst, too.” he teased.

William averted his gaze, somewhat mortified that his eyes had given something away. His pants were starting to feel tight as well and he covertly pulled the covers up to hide the tent that was starting to form. He nearly said he wasn’t interested in Sutcliff’s leftovers, but there was no need to be any more crass than he’d already been…and not even learning that Grell had gotten there first was enough to deter the attraction he felt for Ronald. He didn’t intend to pursue the blond, but some part of him wasn’t willing to outright say so.

"I’m merely trying to understand what would possess you to sleep with your mentor," he excused—which was true enough. Slingby was one thing, but _Grell_? He’d been under the impression that the redhead thought of Knox like a little brother, and he never would have imagined Sutcliff as Ronald’s type.

"It wasn’t planned at all." Ronald shrugged, "It just…happened. Remember when you sent us out on that collection of the ship that was supposed to sink? We were stuck in the same tiny little cabin, and it was freaking cold. So we decided to share a bunk that first night when she wasn’t going to sink. It was warmer that way and…I don’t know, next thing I knew he was naked and yanking my shirt open and it just sorta…happened. I did make sure he knew it was nothing serious on my end, though. I won’t lead people on like that."  
  
The blond trailed off, a strangely saddened look crossing his youthful features. “The guy who took my virginity did that to me, after all…I had really liked him and I was just a toy for the evening. Told myself I wouldn’t sleep with someone who had feelings for me I don’t return—or with someone I have feelings for myself. It fucking hurts to be used, ya know…”

William looked at him again, blinking slowly. Surprisingly, he could relate to some of those sentiments, even though he’d never experienced the pain of being used, himself. “Feelings can muddle things, I agree. I find it much more convenient to have an arrangement in which both parties are aware nothing will ever come of it, beyond mutual sexual release.”

He did sometimes wonder what it was like to feel that sort of affection for another person, though. He saw couples exchange loving looks or touches, and at times he felt like he was missing out on something by keeping himself aloof and distanced from his partners. Then he saw the ruin of a bad breakup and he decided it was much better not to bother with love.

~And that is why I need to refrain from doing anything inappropriate with Knox. This struggle we’re in has made me look at him differently.~

He could even dare say he’d grown fond of the boy, and that was a dangerous thing to combine with sexual attraction. William T. Spears lived his life by a code of logic, common sense and efficiency. Emotional attachment was not a thing he was prepared to deal with.

Ronald rolled off the side of the bed and onto his feet, walking over to the tray that still had food sitting on it from when they had ordered room service. He grabbed a wedge of a cut sandwich and took a bite of it, more for something to do than out of hunger. They were starting to get personal—at least, emotionally personal in their topic. To him, talk of casual sex was one thing, but they were getting deeper than that.  
  
He had teasingly offered sex to William in a way, but he knew that had the man for whatever reason started to take him up on the offer, he would have backed out.  
  
William Spears wasn’t the kind of man Ronald normally fell for. His type was normally a little more like Eric in some ways. Warm, caring, muscular… And William was so cold and displayed limited emotions. And yet, despite that, Ronald did have some feelings for the man. Feelings he hid away knowing they would never be returned. And if he were to hop into bed with the man, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop those emotions from coming out—and he’d only get himself hurt.  
  
“There’s one more sandwich, want it?” he asked, changing the subject.

William shook his head. “Thank you, no. I’m not particularly hungry.”

_~For food.~_

He sighed, once more annoyed with himself for allowing sexual fantasies of Knox permeate his thoughts—even encouraging them. What a foolish thing to do. The movie was ending, and his libido was beginning to settle again. Still, his gaze kept straying to the younger reaper as Ronald finished off the leftover food. He watched the way his throat worked as he swallowed, and he imagined kissing the Adam’s Apple and nibbling the spot below his jaw.

Yes, Ronald Knox was far too attractive for his own good.

* * *

 

 

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

They rested up for a couple more days before returning to the mortal realm to resume their collections. William wasn’t quite certain that Ronald was up for it yet, but the blond insisted that he could manage. Grell and Alexander were called away to Treblinka; one of the killing centers in Poland. That left only William and Ronald as representatives of the London branch in Warsaw Ghetto, and the body count kept rising.

_"January 20 th, 1943,”_ wrote William into his report journal, _"On this day, my partner and I have thus far collected over twenty reaps in Warsaw alone. Other reapers from various branches are also in the area, but language barriers often prevent any meaningful communication between our units. Knox and I have moved further out from the center of the city, battling our way through lesser demons that have come to feast on souls like the carrion they are. We have ten more reaps to do in this area to fulfill our quota for the day."_

He stopped at the body of a young girl—one of the victims of this conflict. She bore a number tattoo on her arm and her head was shaved. He knelt down beside her, considering reaping her before any of the hellspawn in the area could get to her. Unfortunately, he and Ronald were not assigned to the Polish and Jewish casualties. They were meant to collect the reels of the fallen Germans.

He sensed his companion come up behind him and he twisted a bit, looking up at him as Ronald’s shadow fell over him. “Have you seen any other agents in the immediate area?” he questioned, reluctant to simply leave her there undefended until her assigned reaper came for her.

Ronald shook his head, “Not really. There were two but they suddenly ran off after they spotted a reaper distress signal further out. I assume they responded to that and ran to help the team that sent it. I collected two more off our list.” he continued, holding up a clipboard and making sure he’d marked down the correct information, “We have eight more.”

William sighed and rubbed his forehead, removing his hat to comb his bangs back into place. “I see. Well, there’s little to be done for it. We must move on, it seems.”

He spared one last look at the pitiable body of the child and he began to lead the way to their next target. He found a lesser demon already crouched over it when they arrived to gather the soldier’s records, and he quickly shot his scythe out to pin it against a building before it could finish its meal.

"I shall dispatch this one," said the supervisor, his jaw tight with anger. "Please gather whatever records the creature has not already consumed, Knox."

Ron nodded and ran forward, raising his scythe as Will’s pushed the demon off the target. He then brought it down in the man’s chest and released the records, collecting them as quickly as he could—safely. Luckily, they had arrived just in time and very little had been lost.  
  
“Didn’t loose much on this one!” he called back over his shoulder at William.

William snipped the demon’s head off, spilling its records instantly. Were it a greater demon, the attack would have only temporarily stopped it at worse or banished it back to Hell at best. Being a weaker sub-species, however, the demon fell twitching, killed by the attack.

"Well done, Knox." William retracted his scythe and nudged his glasses up further on his nose. "Now we can—"

There was a sudden explosion from a block away, making the ground tremble. An orange glow lit up the sky and William frowned, peering in the direction of the disturbance. He took out the death list to check it and he sighed. He was about to say that they could collect the souls of the Nazi officers that had been executed by the resistance after they took over the ghetto, but it seemed the Nazi’s had begun an attempt to take the area back. There were more explosions and screams, and people started coming out of hiding to flee as Nazi police and military forces started razing buildings.

The resistance was clearly fighting back, since William’s list gained two more names on it. More Jews and Polacks were likely appearing on other death lists than Nazi soldiers, though. “It seems we have more work to do than previously scheduled,” he observed, closing the book. “Come, we will continue as planned and return to collect the new targets afterwards. Older deaths take priority at this time.”

"And not get blown up…I like the idea of not getting blown up!" Ronald hated when the explosions started happening. Bullet wounds took a day, maybe two to heal up. But damage from a bomb could take months. And he hated being stuck in the hospital. He wanted to avoid it at all costs, especially after he’d been sent there once by a demon.

"Indeed." William started off, sticking close to the walls of the buildings and making sure he was still actively cloaked from mortal view. Maintaining such a cloak required some concentration and expended energy, but it was necessary to move freely amongst them without getting actively caught up in their conflict. He dodged a panicked, wide-eyed resident and pulled Ronald aside so that he wouldn’t bump into him either.

They were currently moving away from the struggle, so William presumed they would be relatively safe from gunfire and bombs until they had to back-track to gather the newest targets. “Here,” he said, turning a corner. He stared up at the lifeless, hanging bodies of SS Soldiers and Jewish policemen alike. He hadn’t quite expected to find that the rebels had executed their own, but he supposed they considered them traitors—no better than the Nazi’s.

_~The depths that humans will sink to. So uncivilized. They are little better than demons.~_

Withdrawing a handkerchief to fit over his mouth and nose, William gestured at the scaffold. “I will begin on the left, if you will begin on the right,” he suggested.

Ronald nodded and ducked across to the right side, twirling his scythe in his hand as he readied to reap the first target he came to. “Watch your step, it’s a little slippery over here.” He informed his partner as his foot slid slightly in a puddle of blood. Luckily, he didn’t loose balance or fall and he was able to start collecting the records quickly.

Despite the handkerchief he wore to filter out the stench, William nearly gagged as he began harvesting his first mark. He waved a carrion bird away that had been pecking out the corpse’s eyes and he feared for a moment he might retch. Faster…he had to work faster. The smell, the putrid flesh…and above all, the reason behind it were all making him nauseous and light-headed.

He allowed himself to get in too much of a hurry and one of the reels went out of control, wrapping around his forearm. William cursed and quickly corrected the situation, bringing it back under control and drawing it into his scythe. Not before Ronald noticed, though. He saw the worried look he got from his companion and he forced his expression into a blank, neutral mask. He was seething inside at his slip-up even as he moved on to the next target.

_~A good reaper must never allow the desire for haste to make him careless,~_ he reminded himself. _~They are only collections…pitiful shells of creatures beneath us. We are the mediators, not their judges.~_

It was so easy to tell himself that, though. It was much more difficult to continue believing it. William prided himself on being cold and unmoved by the plight of mortals, but the more time he spent here, the more difficult it was for him to maintain that sort of detachment.

Ronald was unable to shake the worry that hit him when he caught sight of his boss making such a rookie mistake as rushing and loosing control of the records. It was clear to him that William was embarrassed enough over it so he said nothing—but that didn’t stop him from casting his gaze over periodically to check on William when he could afford to take his attention away from the records he was collecting himself.  
  
Working his way over towards William, the smell became overbearing and he paused, pulling out a handkerchief and tying it around his mouth and nose so that he could have both hands free for the job at hand. It made him wonder how long these souls had been sitting there, and it was amazing that they hadn’t been stolen away by a demon or escaped as ghosts.

William finished and he hopped down from the scaffold, a bit pale but otherwise calm. “Well then, that’s finished,” he said as he removed his handkerchief and put it back into his pocket. In hindsight, he supposed he could have simply stopped breathing until the task was complete. He made a mental note to keep that in mind for the future, and he felt another flash of annoyance with himself for not having thought of it.

He pulled out the death list and he retrieved the mapping device from his pocket. Glancing up at the smoke billowing skyward from are where the wall separated the ghetto from the rest of the city, he gave a curt nod. “And now the more difficult task begins. We shall have to pass through combat zones and destruction to reach the other targets, Knox. Are you ready?”

"Sorry…one thing." Unable to help himself, Ronald took William’s hand and tugged his sleeve up to check his arm for marks. It had only looked like the records had only wrapped around him, but Ronald wanted to make sure they hadn’t entered William. Seeing no marks, Ronald nodded and let William go without further word on the issue. "Okay, now I’m ready."

William very nearly asked what that was all about, but he already knew the answer. Adjusting his glasses in his customary, compulsory way, he nodded and started off. The chaos in the streets was disturbing to behold. The sour smell of mortal fear and desperation offended his nostrils. He stopped breathing, not wanting to smell it anymore. He ducked down an alleyway to avoid some of the combat in the streets as they neared their next targets. The SS troops and Nazi police were pushing back, trying to re-establish a foothold and hunt down all of the insurgents.

A man was shot down right before their eyes just as he and Ronald turned down the alley, and William grimaced as a glob of brain matter struck his cheek. He took a breath and he wiped it away hastily, leaving a smear of gray, pink and red in its wake. “H-honestly,” he muttered—because it was the only thing he could think of to say. He swallowed when he saw bloody pieces of hair clinging to his glove from where he’d wiped off the mess, and he compressed his lips and quickened his pace. 

"Senpai!" Ronald grabbed William’s uniform jacket and yanked him out of the way as a shower of bullets flew by. "Get your head in gear! Pay attention! You keep making mistakes!"

He sighed after the scolding. “If you can’t handle this right now we can go. We’ll just take on the extra paperwork, okay? But you gotta tell me. I’m your partner.”

"I’m fine," insisted William stiffly, determined to see this day’s work finished. He hadn’t risen to the top by slacking off on the job. He nodded toward another alley. "This way. I believe we can avoid the majority of this if we—"

And then the sound of fighting broke out in the alley. Of course, the rebels wouldn’t be stupid enough to remain out in the open. Gunfire rattled and another explosion occurred…right down the alleyway that William had just been about to traverse.

"On second thought," muttered the raven-haired reaper. He looked upwards. Staying on the ground right now was probably not the best plan. "Perhaps we should take to the rooftops."

There were likely to be snipers there, but the majority of the violence was taking place on the ground. The one concern about hopping roofs in this situation was the lack of cover.

Ronald paused, studying William. “Are you sure?” He repeated. He didn’t care which route they took. Both had risks, but he _did_ care if William was breaking down.

"If you have a better suggestion for a path to take, Mister Knox, do share." William retrieved his handkerchief and he wiped absently at the remaining mess on his face. "Either way, we have a task to complete. I’ll not risk losing these last targets to demons or soul decay."

"I don’t know this area just as well as you. I’ll follow you whichever way you want to go—as long as you are up to this. No more silly mistakes, okay? That’s my job."

William inwardly cursed again. So he hadn’t imagined it; Ronald _had_ noticed his error. He needed to pull it together. It was his own idea to come here personally after all, and what sort of leader _was_ he if he couldn’t even reap a target without making a mistake?

"It is indeed your job," answered William with a smirk. "I’ll leave the carelessness to you from now on. Let’s go."

"Good." Ronald nodded and turned. "Which way, boss? Over, or through?"

"We’ll try over," decided William, "and should that prove to be more troublesome than traversing the ground, we can drop back to the streets. Just watch for gunfire and grenades. It seems the Nazi’s have decided to try burning their opposition out."

"No need to remind me. I for one, have no desire to find myself back in that stinky old hospital." Ronald nodded, crouching down and springing up to get himself to the rooftop.

William followed, and together they began running and leaping over rooftops with tireless, inhuman dexterity. William pinpointed their next target down beneath them and to the left, and he dropped down quickly to begin the collection. He trusted Ronald to keep an eye out while he did his task—and he would do the same in turn for the next one. This way they would each have a slight breather between reaping and still maintain a good momentum. Human souls didn’t easily let go, and it did expend energy to draw the records for collection.

The pair collected records, checking off the names on their lists one by one until they were down to their last soul. It was Ronald’s turn and he quickly hopped down from the roof, taking aim and twirling his scythe in his fingers before bringing it down into the target’s chest to release the records, while William kept watch up above for any threats.  
  
The victim’s soul opened up and his records burst forth as normal, and Ronald straitened up to begin collecting. He frowned.  
  
Normally, a reaper started the collecting after releasing them by cutting them and drawing them into their scythes from the point of the cut. It took time even for those who could handle making multiple cuts, but it wasn’t working for Ronald. He slashed his scythe through the released records, only to find that his scythe passed through them as if they were little more than smoke. Trying again, he found the same thing happened. Again and again he tried, until he was swinging his scythe back and forth like a child picking up a cricket bat for the first time.  
  
Giving up on the fruitless attempt, Ronald looked closer at the records simply extending up towards the sky. Not fighting back, not being collected, simply swaying like dangling ribbons.  
  
Closer inspection, however, showed that they were not normal.  
  
Had a demon gotten there first, they would be gone, nothing to collect, nothing to show. Nothing would have happened when Ronald brought his scythe down. Had an Angel gotten there to purify the soul, they would show signs of being burnt, missing parts of the records, and glowing a pure white. An escaped soul would show signs of forced release, and Ronald had even seen modified souls once…ones that continued after the end. But these were…blank.  
  
“Hey, Senpai! You…might want to come look at this!”

William dropped down and came to his side, and he frowned at the strange reels. “This is highly abnormal,” he announced, stating the obvious. “This soul appears…empty. As if someone removed all of the life events from the records entirely. The only supernatural beings I can imagine with the power to do that would be Shinigami, but I’ve only known of a couple with the power to alter records extensively…and it was nothing like this.”

"Undertaker and his ‘Bizarre Dolls’?" Ronald nodded, "But those were still collectible. These…I can’t. Look." he swung his scythe blade through the records with the same result as he had before. "It’s like my scythe is broken, but I used it just ten minutes ago!"

William gave it a try with his own scythe, just to confirm it was a problem with the reels and not his partner’s scythe. He met with the same results as Ronald and he compressed his lips, shaking his head. “There is nothing we can do with this, save report in about it. I would say that we could attempt to transport the body to the other side as evidence, but we haven’t a clue what might happen if those records pass through a portal. They could become hostile and pose a danger. Best to leave it and report our findings.”

Ronald nodded and stretched his back with a sigh, “So, we should head back, then? Submit our reports and collections before taking a nice relaxing rest?”

"Yes, I think that would be wise." William looked around as the sounds of fighting and explosives got closer. "Come. We should head to our exit portal immediately. I would rather avoid getting caught in the middle of more firefights."

He still had bits of that one poor bastard’s skull and brain matter clinging to his uniform, and he wanted to get out of the outfit post-haste.

"I saw that there is a sauna in the hotel we are staying in. We could go in there to relax, work up a comfortable sweat." Ron suggested as they turned to find their way to their portal.

William very nearly reminded him that this was not a vacation, but the boy already knew that. It was typical of Knox to try and find relaxation and fun whenever possible, after all. Truthfully after the day they’d had, he wouldn’t mind a bit of indulgence himself. But first he wanted a long, hot shower.

"I’m not entirely opposed to that idea," he admitted, "but first…a shower."

He couldn’t avoid a grimace as he glanced down at the mess on his uniform. At least he’d gotten most of it off of his face. He pulled out the location device and activated it as they walked, studying the grid whilst keeping an eye out for danger. He very nearly tripped on a body and he hastily caught his balance, glancing down at it with annoyance.

"Our exit portal is just outside the city perimeter," he announced. "At least this course won’t lead us back into the thick of the conflict."

"Good, the faster we get back to the safety of our own realm, the faster we can relax and forget this stupid war for a few hours."

They made it to the portal and went through together. William frowned and put a hand to his head, suffering a moment of dizziness from traversing the realms. That certainly wasn’t normal. A symptom of his stress, perhaps. With a sigh, he nodded at his companion and started up the steps to the foreign library.

It took them only ten minutes to turn in their daily collections, however the paperwork took a little longer than normal between having to translate it into German and the extra report about the blank records, which they had to send up to the German board for review.  
  
Finally they got back to their hotel and Ronald lead the way into the hotel room. “You shower first. You still have brains on you.” he offered, stripping out of his uniform.

William grimaced down at himself, and he made a disgusted sound. “Thank you. I don’t envy the cleaners; the job they face.”  
  
He went into the bathroom and immediately stripped out of the soiled clothes, before turning on the shower full blast. He took his time with it, scrubbing his body for much longer than necessary.  
  
He could wash away the blood and dirt, but he could not wash away the experience.

While William washed up, Ronald called down for two extra towels for he and William to use in the sauna; he also ordered them some dinner while he was at it. He planned to eat his while William showered and that gave William something productive to do while Ronald washed off the grime of working a war setting covered him in.  
  
Room service arrived quickly and Ronald thanked them and tipped the young German who brought up his order before setting down to eat as he waited for William to be ready to come out. He didn’t blame Will for taking his time after what he’d gotten splattered with.

William felt like he could just stay in there, letting the water beat down on his shoulders and the back of his bowed head. Eyes tightly shut, he couldn’t seem to banish the memory of the things he’d seen from his mind’s eye.  
  
He opened his eyes and stared down at his feet, watching the water swirl around and down the drain. This was not him. He hadn’t suffered a vulnerable moment since the day he’d endured the humiliation of being rescued by Sutcliff.  
  
Opening his eyes again, William compressed his lips and decided he was better than this. Besides, it would be rude of him to use up all the hot water. He turned the shower off and stepped out with a sigh, grabbing his towel to dry off.  
  
After finishing that, he combed his damp hair and donned his bathrobe. He looked at his soiled uniform in distaste; loathe to touch it again after getting clean. It wouldn’t do to leave it in there for Knox to have to look at it, though.  
  
Sighing, William used his death scythe to pick it up, and he backed out of the bathroom with it clutched gingerly between the blades on the end. His expression resembled that of a man handling a putrid carcass.

"Wow, great timing. I just finished eating," Ron said, getting up. "I ordered dinner for us. You can eat it while I get cleaned up and then we can go relax without further delay." He spoke as cheerfully as he could, slipping passed William and into the steamy bathroom. "Oh, and I had them bring us up fresh towels to use in the sauna so that we don’t have to use our bathing towels."  
  
With that said, the blond shut the door and the sound of the water turning back on could be heard.

Silently grateful for Knox’s thoughtfulness, William went to the little table to eat. He stared out the window as he dined, hardly tasting the food. He listened to the sound of running water in the bathroom and he hoped he’d left enough hot water for his companion. Thoughts of that led to other thoughts he ought not be entertaining…thoughts of Ronald’s nude body, with water rivulets spilling over it…

William compressed his lips with annoyance and gave himself a mental nudge. _~Oh, honestly…can I not keep my thoughts more appropriate?~_

But at least imagining Ronald in the shower seemed to chase away the lingering mental images of the things he’d witnessed thus far in this war. He had to say, it was a far more pleasant picture to keep in his head.

Ronald showered quickly, simply washing off the dirt and grime as relaxing would come shortly. It took him only seven minutes to finish and get out. He toweled himself off and stretched, cracking his back. He then got himself ready for the sauna, wrapping his new towel around his waist and putting the hotel bath robe on over it for modesty on his way down to the sauna.  
  
“Okay, if you are finished eating and have gotten into your towel and robe, we can head on down.” Ron said, slipping out of the steamy bathroom and moving to find a cleaner pair of his shoes.

William glanced down at his half-finished meal, not particularly hungry enough to finish it. “This will do.” He got up to retrieve the fresh towel, and he went into the bathroom to put it on before tying his robe shut again and putting on his slippers.

"I’m ready. Lead the way, Knox."

* * *

 

A few moments later, they were entering the sauna. William found to his dismay that his glasses immediately fogged up upon entering the steaming room. He tried wiping them off with his robe sleeve, but they just fogged up again. With a sigh, he felt his way over to a bench and he inadvertently groped Ronald’s bum in the process.

"Whoa there!" Ronald gasped, stiffening as he hung his robe on a peg and slipped his glasses into it’s pocket, "An invitation to the Sauna isn’t an invitation to get so familiar." he teased, turning around, "Benches are over there."  
  
He shut the door to the sauna and took a deep breath. The air was warm and damp, water sizzling on hot stones to create steam. The small room smelled sweetly of fresh cedar, the damp air strengthening the scent of the polished wood making up the floor, walls, ceiling, and benches lining the walls in different levels.  
  
The sauna was also empty, giving the two reapers privacy for the time-being. Ronald took a pale of water and splashed some on the heated stones in the corner before he moved over to the benches and lay down across a mid-level bench, stretching out with only his towel for modesty.  
  
“Come on.” he smiled at William’s blurry figure, “I think you’ll really enjoy this. It’s relaxing, and it has health and therapeutic benefits. No alcohol or noise.”

William followed him to the bench and gingerly sat down upon it. He’d been to a sauna before once, but it was full of other men and the smell of sweat eventually drove him out. Ronald, however, didn’t seem to stink much when he perspired—or perhaps that was just his own subconscious mind affecting the way he perceived body odors from him.

While Ronald certainly seemed relaxed as he lay down and sighed, William sat on the edge of his seat, hands clasped over his knees. He wished he had something to read or some paperwork—and then he realized what a ridiculous notion that was.

_~Yes, very good…do paperwork or read a book inside a steam room. Brilliant idea, Spears. Why not attempt origami swans while you’re at it?~_

He was embarrassed over apparently grabbing Ronald somewhere inappropriate by accident, and he was trying to clear his mind of the incident.

Ronald glanced up at Will and sighed, “I’m not even wearing my glasses and I can tell you are tense. Come on, we are off the clock and have no more work until tomorrow. Enjoy it.” He sat up and moved behind Will, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back slightly as he began to rub his shoulders, “It’ll help. Promise.”

Will flailed a little and sputtered, but he made himself relax and tried not to fight his companion’s efforts. “It really isn’t necessary,” he said…but he heard the lack of conviction in his own voice as Ronald’s hands began to rub and knead his shoulders. His eyes closed and a groan surfaced in his throat. It felt…heavenly. Nobody had ever offered to do this for him unless he paid them for it.

"I know." Ronald shrugged, "But I also know it’s nice to be spoiled sometimes. And you work harder than anyone I know. I may not be very good at this kind a’ thing, but it’s better than leaving my partner all tense and stressed. I know you think I slack off a lot, but doing things like this, relaxing and getting away from the stress of work, it helps more than it harms."

William bowed his head, enjoying the treatment all too much. Ronald had very attentive, talented hands. He seemed to find tension knots that William wasn’t even aware he had, and every moment he worked on him relaxed him more.

"If you ever decide to take a side hobby," murmured the brunet, "I would like to suggest you consider masseuse as an option."

"I’m not that good at it." Ronald said, moving further down Will’s back and finding more knots, "Sweet Rhea, your back is like a gnarly old tree—do you ever relax?"

"Hmph…I’ve forgotten the meaning of the word," admitted William dryly, "though I feel I’m beginning to for the first time in a while, thanks to you."

It wasn’t at all like him to express such gratitude, but he felt Ronald honestly deserved at least that much. The chipper young agent was like an anchor for him lately, keeping him from slipping and reminding him of who and what he was.

"Maybe I’ll have to do this for you after we get back to London, too, then." Ron suggested, "Can’t have you this tense all the time…"  
  
Catching himself leaning forward, his lips tempted to press a kiss to the man’s exposed shoulders, Ronald pulled himself back and quietly reminding himself not to get ahead of himself or start thinking there was more between them than there was.  
  
“If you want to lay down, I can reach more of your back more easily,” he suggested.

"Mmm," murmured William, too appreciative of the treatment to argue with that. It did hurt a bit when the blond rubbed the particularly tense spots, but it was a good pain. He could feel the knots slowly loosening and he complied with his companion’s suggestion readily, scooting over a bit before lying down on his stomach.

"Thank you, Knox," he sighed, again displaying uncommon gratitude. He hardly recognized his own voice, in fact. Was _that_ what he sounded like, whenever he wasn’t stiffly adhering to his detached stoicism? He supposed he must have spoken like that long ago, when he was still a youth in the academy. That was before he gathered the strength of will and determination to banish his personal feelings for the sake of the job…before his first reaping assignment with Grell.

"Now you’re getting it." Ronald smiled warmly as he adjusted to kneel more comfortably next to William, his fingers and palms eased the knots out of his back and running along his strong back and shoulders. "This is nice, right?"

All William could do in response was groan with pleasure. He honestly hadn’t realized how tense he was, until the blond began to work his magic on him. One arm flopped limply over the side of the bench, the fingers dragging the floor, while the other pillowed his cheek. He wasn’t even that bothered by the fog covering the lenses of his glasses anymore. Against conscious thought, he began to imagine his companion’s talented hands on other parts of his body and he just went with it, pretending for the sake of the fantasy that he was not Ronald’s boss, they weren’t caught up in the middle of the war and it wouldn’t be entirely inappropriate for him to yank Ron’s towel off and have his way with him.

It was a very pleasant fantasy, and William’s lips curved into a quiet little smile as he allowed his mind to play it out. Unfortunately, said fantasy was causing a condition beneath his towel that was going to be very obvious once he sat up. He couldn’t even care about that right now, though. There was only the hiss of steam, the feel of Ronald’s hands on his body and his own depraved thoughts.

Ronald eased Will’s back, shoulders, and neck until he stopped finding new knots and William seemed completely relaxed. With a smile, he lay back on his back again and looked up at the ceiling, “Thanks for putting up with me on this.” he muttered, closing his eyes.

"Mmm?" Missing the contact but not one to whine about it, William opened one eye and turned his head. "Putting up with you on what? Coming to the sauna?" His thoughts were still on his fantasies and he flushed a bit with the realization that he was going to have to be stuck in that position for a while, until his arousal ebbed.

"That, and me working so hard at making you relax and just forget about work. I know you hate it when Grell-senpai tries to do so, but you really seemed to need this."

William snorted softly and answered in a dry voice. “Sutcliff’s idea of relaxing me is to try and give me uninvited lap-dances. I find your methods far more tolerable.”

Though at the moment, he doubted he would object to Ronald giving him a lap dance.

_~Just stop it. Heavens, you are behaving as a letch.~_

He kept his thoughts and his condition carefully concealed from his companion, maintaining a neutral tone of voice so that he wouldn’t give away his little…what? Crush? Infatuation? Honestly, he didn’t know what name to give his issue. The only reaper that William had ever felt a crush for was the Undertaker—and that was partly hero worship for a legend that was long-gone. The mortician was not the reaper he used to be…not by far. William respected him for his past service, but every time he’d seen him since his retirement, he felt like he was gazing at a shadow of what the man used to be. It saddened him inside.

What he felt for Ronald wasn’t the same. He could only call it lust, and most reapers would not blame him for that. The boy was charming and he attracted admirers with hardly any effort; just like his party buddy Slingby—who Ronald had apparently had intimate relations with on more than one occasion.

William could just imagine the nosebleeds it would cause if the ladies in Human Resources that fawned over the two of them found out about their little trysts. He huffed with amusement at the thought.

"What’s so entertaining?" Ron asked, hearing the amused huff escape William. He was pretty sure the man hadn’t meant to let out escape, but it had, and now he was curious.

William tempered his amusement and made up an excuse. “The steam made me cough.”

_~If ever there were a time to check yourself, Spears, now is it.~_

He tried to block out the image of those secretaries slowly flooding the entire floor with their nosebleeds at the sight of Ron and Eric kissing, but he was tired and a bit giddy. Another huff escaped him…and a chuckle after that. The harder he tried to stifle it, the worse it became.

_~G-good heavens, I don’t even have alcohol to blame on this! I’ve got to pull myself together.~_

Ronald scooted to the edge of the bench he was laying on, being a level above William, and hung his head down in front of his face, “That’s definitely a laugh. Is the heat getting to you? We _have_ been in here a while.” He sighed and got up, not yet ready to leave, “You know what’s refreshing that I like to do when in a sauna or a hot tub? Give my body a shock. It feels nice. The shower right outside gives off cold water. I like to douse myself in it and then come back in.” he suggested.

A cold shower…yes. That might shock some sense back into him and get rid of the issue going on below his waist, as well. William carefully got off his stomach and turned on the bench. “I think I shall partake in that suggestion,” he announced, carefully adjusting his towel to be sure nothing was peeking out. At least the tent wasn’t quite as obvious as before.

"I won’t be long." William got up and left, keeping his back to Ronald the entire time to lessen the chances of him noticing the state he was in.

"I’ll do the same when you get back." Ron shrugged, getting up to go splash more water on the heated rocks. Watching as steam rolled up from them and filled the small room again.

William went to where Ronald indicated, and he hung his towel over the side of the door as he stepped into the stall. He put his glasses up on the little shelf above the sprayer and he took a moment to brace himself. He cursed as he turned the cold water on and it struck his skin, giving rise to goosebumps. It certainly did the job of shocking him out of his strange, half-hysterical mood…and his balls were trying to retreat back into his body. He bore it stoically, turning around and closing his eyes with distressed little gasps. He turned it back off after a moment and he sighed, grateful that both problems seemed to be corrected.

"Well, that takes care of that," he murmured in satisfaction, and he reached for his towel—only to find it gone.

William wiped water out of his eyes and blinked, fumbling for the glasses he’d put up. Thankfully, they were still there, and he replaced them over his eyes and cautiously opened the stall door a crack, suspecting that his towel had fallen and landed outside. It was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, bloody hell," groaned William. Could _nothing_ go right for him, lately?

He poked his head out and looked around for any sign of the thief—or anyone else nearby. Seeing nobody, he hastily stepped out of his chosen stall and into the next one, hoping he’d find a spare towel there.

Nothing.

German curses filled the air.

* * *

 

Ronald sighed, waiting for William to come back. The seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. It shouldn’t take so long to shock his body with cold and then hurry back into the sauna refreshed. Maybe William got lost?  
  
After another minute or two of waiting, Ronald got up to go look for William. He really shouldn’t have gotten lost. The shower was literally just outside the sauna—unless he’d gone to the pool instead. But the man didn’t have swimming trunks and he really didn’t strike Ronald as the kind of man to skinny dip, especially in a public pool.  
  
Opening the door to the sauna, Ronald was met by a rush of sweet cold air, and the sound of unknown words being shouted in German. Maybe William had run into some people who had a beef with him or something?  
  
“Senpai?” Ronald walked around to the shower stalls and stopped dead in his tracks. His wide eyes glued to the blurry vision of William standing completely naked. His glasses were not on, but he didn’t need them to see a lack of towel which granted the man his modesty. For once, the lively blond was rendered speechless.

Unaware of his audience in his personal distress, William stood outside the third and final stall with his hands on his hips in an aggravated pose, lips compressed tightly. Someone had seen fit to help themselves to his towel—whether as a prank or because they lacked one themselves and were under the mistaken impression that his was free for the taking.

"Did they _not_ hear the shower running?” he groused. He almost suspected Knox of doing it just to have a laugh at his expense, but he couldn’t imagine the blond doing such a thing at a time like this—not when he was clearly so concerned with his mental health. Knox was a mischievous fellow, true, but he knew when to pick his moments and this was just plain _mean._

_~Perhaps I can sneak back into the sauna and grab my robe before Knox notices my state of nudity,~_ he reasoned. _~He naps like a professional, after all. He’ll probably be in a doze when I return, and I can be covered before he even acknowledges I’m back.~_

Head down, William began to hurry back around to the other side of the building, inwardly praying that nobody came along and saw him. Of course in this part of Shinigami Europe, they might not care even if someone _did_ spot him. They were a bit more casual about nudity here than at home; but he couldn’t toss away his conservative modesty, all the same.

He didn’t see his young companion standing there until he was nearly on top of him. In fact, he saw Ronald’s bare feet before he saw anything else, and William’s face flushed as he lifted his head and met the other reaper’s wide, staring eyes. Naked of spectacles, there was still no chance that Ron hadn’t gotten a good eyeful at such close range.

William hastily cupped both hands over his groin and cleared his throat. “Someone saw fit to help themselves to my towel whilst I was showering,” he offered in a rushed, flat explanation. He couldn’t move, and he flushed deeper when the blond’s gaze traveled over him and fixated on the part he was trying to conceal. His hands didn’t quite cover it all.

"I…I…" Ronald was unable to stop staring—eyeing the handsome man up and down. Even without his glasses he could tell that William was well endowed and it wasn’t helping his imagination. He’d been working so hard at keeping things between them, for the most part, professional. To not let his secret attraction to the man out of control. But now William was standing in front of him, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination body-wise.  
  
~ _Damn it all to Styx, Knox! Stop being so bloody rude and disrespectful, you love-sick idiot! Don’t forget he’s your boss!_ ~ he scolded himself.  
  
“I’ll—go get you a fresh towel. Go get your robe for now and—I’ll be right back!” he squeaked, turning away and hurrying towards the front desk in the lobby.

Wishing he had a bag to put over his head as well as one for his groin, William zipped into the sauna—possibly moving faster than he’d ever moved in his life. He pulled the robe on thankfully and he stepped out into the cool air. It was rather pointless for Ron to fetch a towel for him now; he was quite finished with the sauna for the night after such an embarrassing episode. He leaned back against the outer wall of the steam room, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes with a sigh.

"Were I a believer in fate, I would be certain it was having a joke at my expense, now."

Poor Knox was clearly traumatized by the sight of his boss standing there in the buff when he came around the corner, and William regretted not seeing him sooner. He’d have called out to him from inside one of the shower stalls, had he any idea he was nearby, and the awkward situation might have been avoided.

Ronald got the new towel quickly, but took his time getting back, pausing in the halls to shove his face in William’s fresh towel. “Get it out of your head, Knox. Not like the man wanted to be naked for your enjoyment! Stop thinking about it. Just forget about it. The man is probably embarrassed like crazy!”  
  
With a heavy sigh, Ronald continued on and walked back to the sauna, “Got it for you.” he said, holding it up as he approached William, hiding his pinkened face with it.

William took it, and he honestly didn’t know what to do with it. His face was in the shadows, concealing his own flush of mortification. “Thank you.”

He met Ronald’s eyes briefly and he found he couldn’t look away. There was something there…he was sure of it. His lips parted as their eyes locked, and he couldn’t tell whether Ronald’s blush was due to embarrassment over catching him in the nude, or something else.

"I…apologize," William said softly. "I was trying to get back inside and into my robe without you noticing. It wasn’t my intention to…reveal myself to you that way."

He’d practically run over the fellow. That was what he got for not paying attention to where he was going.

Ronald shook his head quickly, “I’m sorry for staring—uh, lets just…forget it happened.” he suggested, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"Gladly," sighed William…though he couldn’t ‘forget’ about it, nor could he forget about the lust he thought he saw in Ronald’s eyes. "I think I’m going to retire for the evening, actually. I could use a good rest."

Still clutching the towel that he no longer needed, William sought out his slippers—which were thankfully still by the sauna door—and he put them on. “Goodnight, Mr. Knox. I would advise you not to stay up too late. We have another long day ahead of us, tomorrow.”

Ronald nodded, “I’ll…try not to wake you when I get back up to the room.”  
  
He didn’t really care for staying longer after everything, but he wanted the time alone to calm his mind, and he was sure William would also appreciate the privacy for an hour or so more.

* * *

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Their obligation to this war seemed to go on and on. William and Ronald traveled all across Europe; reaping, fighting off demons, and witnessing more horrors along the way than either of them had ever imagined. They crossed paths with Grell and his partner from time to time when their assignments took them to the same locations, but they never remained in one area for longer than two days. As they moved from location to location, more instances of blank cinematic records sprang up, and there were apparently reports of the same thing coming from other locations surrounding Germany.

From the end of January to the middle of March, most of their assignments took place in cities and towns under Nazi control throughout Poland, Ukraine, Romania and of course, Germany itself. The allies were pushing to liberate outer territories taken over by the Axis, and occupy those that were part of the Third Reich.

In early March, both William and Ronald got severely injured during an air raid over Essen, in the Ruhr valley. A bomb dropped too close to them and the building they ran to for cover collapsed on top of them. Ronald spent a little over a week in a German Shinigami hospital recovering, before they were released and deemed fit to resume their duties. The camaraderie between them grew—as could be expected when two people had to wade through hell on earth together and rely on each other for survival—but neither of them acted on the underlying attraction they felt. Both stubbornly clung to the assumption that it could never amount to anything good, and both did their best to hide it from each other.

On March 11th, shortly after their release from medical care, the partnered London agents were sent to Kharkov in Ukraine. German troops had begun an invasion there and were embroiled in a fight against the Red Army for control of it. This would be the first time either of them had been sent to reap outside city walls. There were bodies of SS Panzer Corps troops scattered around they had directly engaged their opposition and hundreds died in the process of breaking through the defenses.

* * *

 

Compared to the noise of explosions, gunfire and screaming within the city, the grasslands that William and Ronald now walked through were almost peaceful—but for the carrion birds and the moans of dying and wounded troops. They passed by a German medical encampment where injured soldiers were brought to be tended to, if at all possible. So far they had reaped two each…but the list was very long. There were severed and burned limbs and various body parts scattered throughout the area; some blown off from land-mines, others from artillery fire.

The smell made William want to vomit, and he decided to quit breathing and communicate with his partner through hand gestures. He found another of their targets and he waved Ronald over to cover him while he reaped.

Ronald, also having ceased his breathing, nodded and looked around for a good vantage point where he could station himself to keep watch for demons and any other problems that may present itself to he and his partner. Unfortunately there were none in this particular area, and he took to having to sweep the area, walking around to get a clear view in all directions. Towns were easier. There were buildings to perch on. Here there wasn’t even a sturdy tree; many of them having been damaged by explosions.  
  
Everything seemed to be as safe as a battlefield could be. In the distance where the fighting had advanced to, there were shouts, cries, gunfire, and explosions, but the wide areas free of walls and buildings let the sound be swallowed up by the air, making things more pleasant sound-wise, and it helped Ronald listen for the tell-tale signs of a demon.  
  
Since Ronald had started helping William relax after they got back to their hotel room, The man had really cleaned up his act and behaved much more like the William T. Spears he knew while out on the field, so he didn’t have to worry about the records getting out of control on the man—which was good. It was one less distraction…one less thing to keep an active eye out for when he was covering William.  
  
More blank records had also been turning up, however. At first it was just one or two per week. Not for them, but for all the reapers working the field in this war. The Board of Higher Reapers simply told everyone to ignore it and write it off as another soul lost during a time of war. However, it had started happening more and more as the months passed, causing a bit of alarm to turn up in the dispatch community.  
  
Ronald completed another wide circle around William’s collection site and he glanced back at him in time to see the man finish it up. Good. Every successful collection made things much easier on everyone. On to the next target.

William tethered his scythe back to his wrist and he tugged his uniform cap lower over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. Most of the fighting outside the city had occurred in the dark hours of the morning, before the city was breached an hour or so after sunrise. The air was chilled, the frost of winter still lingering before the coming of spring. He walked over to Ronald and he checked the list again. Today he wore his prescription sunglasses, having stashed his regular ones in it’s case—which he kept in the supply pack attached to his belt.

"Hmm." William’s mouth drew into a frown of concentration as he read the list and checked his compass. "The next three targets should be over there, near that copse of trees."

He pointed a black-gloved finger in the direction of the coordinates, where he could feel the death aura already. “That way. The first two are closest. The third is further away from the trees, a few yards away.”

Taking the lead, William began his trek towards the targets, watching the ground before him carefully for trip-wires and odd mounds.

Ronald followed carefully behind William. Many mines and trip wires had already been triggered, but there was always the chance of encountering one that was still live. Triggering one wouldn’t kill the two reapers, but it would put them out of action for an extended period of time.  
  
“You’d think the tech department would work to create something that would disarm things left on the battlefields that could harm us dispatch agents.” The blond complained as he side-stepped a suspicious mound, “Save us time, energy, and keep us safe and able to do our jobs more efficiently. We already have bullets and demons and sky-bombs to worry about! And not to mention—Hhhah!”  
  
Ronald was startled by a man, not quite dead a few feet away, pulling himself along the ground despite his missing arm and a broken leg, triggering a trip wire. As blood splattered towards Ronald, he stepped back out of an involuntary reaction—and his heart seemed to stop; a small click sounding as his foot came down on the mound he had just seconds before carefully stepped around, and it sank in ever so slightly.  
  
~ _shit_ ~  
  
Wide-eyed and frozen in place, Ronald looked at his partner, who had turned his attention to the man who’d just been killed, checking their collection list and finding a new name had been added. He watched with a dry mouth and quickened heart as William turned to collect the man’s soul while they were there, unaware of Ronald’s bad step and the fact that if the blond moved for any reason, he’d be blown to bits.  
  
“S-S-Senpai…pr-problem.” he choked in a small, broken voice he wasn’t sure William could hear.

William thought he heard a weak sound from his companion, and he glanced up. Seeing Ronald standing a few feet away with a terrified expression on his suddenly colorless face, he frowned. “What is it?”

"I…I can’t—my foot…" Ronald slowly pointed down at his firmly planted foot that had sunk into the small mound, "I—I think I—stepped on something."

William’s eyes widened slightly as he looked down, and he hastily finished gathering the last of the reels he was drawing in. “Oh, hells. Not that it needs saying, but do _not_ move, Ronald. Releasing the pressure will set it off. Let me think for a moment.”

He moved closer to study the mound, and he estimated how much Ronald weighed. He looked at his scythe. It could extend an incredibly long distance, but the question was whether or not he could wedge it under Ronald’s foot and keep enough pressure on the trigger for the two of them to get a safe distance away.

"Ronald, listen to me," said William in a calm voice—though inwardly his tension was wound up like a coil about to snap. "I am going to create a portal to our realm. Once I’ve done that, I intend to try and wedge my scythe under your foot to hold the trigger down while you come to me. Once I have it wedged, come to my side and we shall back up towards the portal before I release it. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Ronald whimpered. What a stupid, careless thing to do! Stepping without looking where his foot may land! He was scared. He was legitimately scared that he and William would be seriously hurt for a long time over his mistake. And so soon after their previous stay in a hospital.  
  
“I’m sorry…” he whispered.

"Don’t be sorry, be alert," demanded William. He formed a portal behind him for them to fall back through, before beginning the delicate task before him. He started to perspire beneath his cap as he extended his scythe toward the foot on top of the mine. "Steady, Knox…steady."

He stopped it at the bottom of Ronald’s boot and he pushed cautiously, rocking the pole from side to side to wedge the blade up under it, little by little. When he surmised that he had it where most of the weight was resting, he looked up from his task and met Ronald’s eyes. He reached out to him with his free hand and beckoned.

"Come to me now…be quick."

"Are you sure this’ll work?" Ronald asked, reaching out and grabbing William’s hand with a trembling one, "If—you don’t then you can get to a safe place and I’ll take it all myself and then only one of us will be stuck in the hospital!" He didn’t want to get hurt, but he didn’t want to see William get hurt, either. He could at least make sure William didn’t. He himself was a little screwed on that front.

"I will not leave you to become the victim of a landmine," said William sternly, pulling the blond toward him. He put an arm around him once Ronald was clear of the trigger, pressing down with all his might on his scythe to keep the trigger from releasing. "Now…let’s back away slowly. I’ll continue to extend my scythe as we go, to put as much distance between ourselves and that mine as possible. Once we reach the portal, I’ll retract the scythe and we’ll dive through—hopefully with minimal injuries."

When he was tugged off the mine, Ronald stumbled against William, and he didn’t bother to pull away, backing up slowly with William, holding onto him for comfort. He was off it, but they were still in danger.  
  
He watched as they got closer and closer to the portal. Finally arriving within a half step into it. “Okay—ready when you are.” he breathed.

"Very well," said the brunet, holding him more tightly. "On the count of three. One…two… _three_!”

William retracted his scythe and jumped backwards through the portal with Ronald at the same time. The land mine went off with a spray of dirt and flames, and he felt the searing heat against his skin just before they landed on the other side of the portal. William’s breath escaped in a pained huff as he and his companion landed on the hard concrete of the Shinigami version of the same city they’d just been outside of. He lay there with Ronald, both arms wrapped around him now in a reflexive embrace. He saw clear blue skies up above, and he realized absently that his uniform hat had fallen off. His sunglasses were askew and smeared, but whole.

William turned his head to look at the smaller reaper beside him. “Knox, are you injured?”

"I—I’m whole, at least." Ronald gasped in surprise, adrenaline pumping through his body. He honestly couldn’t tell if he had been injured, but he could at least feel that he had two arms and two legs still.  
  
Breathing hard, Ronald lifted his head, looking down at William. His glasses were down at the tip of his nose, and his hat was also missing. “Are…are you?” he panted.

William relaxed his hold on Ronald and he cautiously patted his body, finding singed bits on his uniform, but feeling no pain. “I seem to be whole,” he murmured.

He’d seen men caught up in this fight wander around in shock, seeking out their own missing limbs because they were too dazed to feel the pain of dismemberment. Sitting up painfully, he got to his feet and he stared down at his companion for a moment. So close…he’d come so close to watching Ronald get blown to bits. Could he have managed to gather him up and bring him in to be stitched back together again? He thought of Humpty Dumpty, and he loathed himself for the comparison.

"We made it," he said simply, offering a gloved hand to help his companion to his feet. "Shaken, but whole. I think a reprieve is in order, before we return to the other side to finish our collections."

Ronald took a deep breath, checking himself over before accepting William’s help, hoping his shaky legs could hold him. “Thank Rhea,” he sighed as he was pulled to his feet. “That was way more excitement than I ever want to have on the field again.” His admission was the closest he’d let himself get to admitting to his partner and boss that he was scared shitless and was simply glad he hadn’t wet his pants.

"It was nerve wracking," agreed William, impulsively putting an arm around Ronald to steady him.

It really didn’t feel like a strong enough description, to him. In that moment when he thought he’d have to watch his partner get blown up, something was shaken loose inside of him and he wasn’t quite sure he could stuff it back into the box from whence it came. He looked around and he spotted a cafe across the street. The few reaper civilians in the area looked at them curiously in passing; but they were likely used to the sight of frazzled Dispatch agents teleporting in from the other side, these days.

"There is a cafe," announced the brunet, making himself let go of his companion. He straightened his shades and he located his and Ronald’s hats a few feet away. He went to retrieve them and he brushed his off before putting it back on his head and offering Ronald’s to him. "Let’s have a drink to calm our nerves and try to eat something before we return to the field, shall we?"

Ronald nodded and took a deep, calming breath to try and steady his legs before walking across to the cafe. One look at his and William’s uniforms, and Ronald sighed. “So much for these issued uniforms…gonna have to send in for replacements. It’ll be too much work to repair them and even then they’d not look right.”

Not that he really cared that they were ruined. He hated having to wear the uniform that represented the Nazi party which were causing so much grief and death in the mortal world. It would be one undercover uniform he would not be keeping in his possession. But it was a way to try to distract himself from enjoying the way William had held him. The man was only helping him. Not showing him affection, after all!

Unaware of Ronald’s inner dilemma, William guided his steps over to the cafe and he pushed the door open for both of them. He asked the man working behind the counter where they could sit, and he told him to choose any seat he liked. William looked around until he found a quiet, shadowed spot in a booth near the back. He nodded at it and directed Ronald over to it, helping him sit down before sliding in opposite of him. With a soft sigh of relief, William took his hat and gloves off and retrieved his comb from his pocket to groom his hair back into place. He looked at Ronald’s dirt-smudged face and blank stare, and he tapped the table with his fingertips to get his attention.

"What would you like to eat, Ronald?" He nodded at the menu sitting by the napkin dispenser. "They have English translations beneath the selections here, so you should have no trouble finding something to your liking."

"Something calming…like tea would be good, since we are still working and can’t have a nice scotch after all that…" Ronald muttered before realizing that tea wasn’t ‘something to eat’. Hoping he wasn’t called out on that, he opened the menu and scanned over the English translations written in tiny text under the German descriptions of each dish. He rested his elbow on the table and cradled his chin in his hand as he lazily went over his options. He wanted something easy to eat, something that would help restore his energy but wouldn’t upset his still nervous stomach.

"I think I’ll have the potato and sausage soup," William decided after a glance at the menu, his thoughts running in a similar direction to Ronald’s. "It doesn’t look as though they have much of a tea selection, but they do have hot cocoa. I think I’ll try that with a glass of water on the side."

He was only making small talk to distract both of them from the disaster they’d narrowly escaped. Inwardly, he wasn’t fairing much better than Ronald, but it was times like these that he needed to be the strong one and lead by example.

"Everything here is sausages and potatoes." Ronald sighed, "I guess I’ll have the same…maybe we should share that chocolate cake afterwards. I heard that chocolate can be good when you feel like you nearly got blown to bits…"

"I’m not certain I can stomach the richness of German chocolate cake right now, but perhaps if we share, as you say." William closed his menu. "I shall put our orders in now. What would you like to drink?"

"Is German chocolate terribly different than what we have in England?" Ronald frowned, looking over the drink menu. "…What kind of cafe doesn’t have tea?"

"It’s rumored to be delicious, but richer," answered William, "and as for the second question, this one, apparently." He smirked. "There are plenty of coffee selections, I’ve noticed, but I doubt being wired on caffeine is conductive to calming you down."

"I’m not big on coffee unless its morning and I had to get dragged out of bed way too soon." He set the menu down and looked at William, "Have you not had German chocolate before? I thought you were part German or something."

"I am," answered William, "but I cannot recall the last time I actually tasted some. I have some vague recollection, but…well, I tend to block out much of my childhood."

"Why? Germany’s not that bad—well, except for what the mortal Nazi party are doing right now, but the rest is nice…and very…potato-obsessed based on every menu we get handed to us when we eat out."

William nearly chuckled at that. “Yes, well…potatoes and sausage are both staples of German cooking.” He sighed and looked out the window. “I would like to return for a visit under more pleasant circumstances. As for my childhood, I really didn’t enjoy much of one. Father was forever pushing me to do better, and my best was never good enough for him. Mother simply went along with whatever he said or did.”

He got up and nodded toward the order counter. “I will go and put our orders in. Have you decided on a drink yet?”

"I’m surprised you didn’t rebel and turn out, well, more like me." Ronald observed, "And uhh…maybe a glass of milk?" he suggested.

"I’m sure that’s available," said William with a nod. He left to put their order in, and he returned a moment later with both their drinks. Setting Ronald’s down before him, he took his seat again. "The food should be ready within fifteen minutes. In the meantime, we should discuss our next course of action when we get back to our daily mission. I believe I should take the lead and use my scythe to test the path before us, while we are collecting in an area riddled with landmines. I would like to avoid a repeat of the situation we narrowly escaped, if possible."

"No objections here… No way would I ever want to step on one again—ever!" The blond sighed and picked up the glass of milk, looking at it before taking a gulp. When he set the glass back down, he unknowingly supported a mustache of white.

William cleared his throat as a chuckle threatened, and he tapped his lips with a finger. “Ronald…”

"Hmm?" Ronald looked up at William, confused for a few seconds before what the man was trying to tell him. "Oh!" He grabbed a napkin and dried his lip, his cheeks pinkening.

William sipped his cocoa to control the smile he was fighting. Knox could be quite endearing without even trying, and for the stoic Dispatch supervisor, that could prove to be a dangerous thing. He had already grown much fonder of him in their time together as partners during this war. The forming of a bond between partners was to be expected in such drastic situations, but his feelings for Ronald were anything but platonic.

He’d even fantasized about leaning across the table to lick that milk mustache off, himself.

William cleared his throat. “Well then, let’s try to keep our mind off of that close call and enjoy this break while we can, shall we?”

"We’ll get a nice hour-hour and a half before we have to be back out there." Ron nodded, "And with any luck we can finish our collections without any more…distractions."

William thought of something entirely different from the disaster they’d narrowly avoided when Ronald mentioned “distractions”. He drank more of his hot chocolate—too quickly—and ended up scalding his esophagus. He coughed and hastily reached for his ice water, gulping it down to sooth the burn.

"Yes, well," he managed after a moment, "we will both simply have to be more careful, won’t we?"

"Are you okay?" Ronald asked, his eyes flickering between his partner and the hot drink, "Too hot?"

William nodded and dabbed his lips with his napkin. “A bit, yes.” He heard the bell ring on the counter and he looked to see that their food was ready. “I’ll go and get that.”

He got up to retrieve their food, glad for the momentary distraction. He could not believe how inappropriate his thoughts and behavior were, but then having been through a scare like that was likely an understandable reason for it. He collected the two plates with the bowls of soup set on them and he balanced them with the skill of a professional waiter as he carried them back to the booth. He set down Ronald’s before putting his own down and retaking his seat. His stomach growled as the aroma wafted up his nostrils. He didn’t realize he was so hungry until he had actual food before him. He opened the package of crackers on the dish and he broke them up into his soup.

"This smells delightful," he sighed. The one thing he was going to miss about their time in Germany was easily the food. Perhaps that was why he’d avoided having any desserts, so far. He feared he might not want to leave at all, once he tasted authentic German chocolate again. But Ronald wanted to try some, so he supposed he was due for it.

Ronald picked up his spoon and swirled it in the soup to help cool it as he leaned forward and gently blew on its swirling surface. He ignored the crackers provided for the time-being because he preferred to use them to help scoop up the last few bites of soup once it got harder to get it on the spoon. After a moment, he raised a spoonful to his lips, giving it one last gentle puff of air before he slipped it in past his lips to deposit it onto his tongue.  
  
“Not bad.” He shrugged, dipping his soup spoon in the bowl for more, “It’s no risotto, but it’s nice.” He smiled, “Filling, too.”

William smirked a bit. “I should prepare my risotto for you, some time. Cooking is one of my guilty pleasures, when I can actually find time to do it.” He blew on his first spoonful of soup and ate it, sighing with pleasure at the creamy texture and flavor. “I should procure more of my mother’s people’s traditional recipes and begin perfecting it. I had forgotten how much I enjoy this kind of food, to be honest. Knox, when this is finished, I am going to sign us both up for a weekend off, and we can try making a meal of your choice and a meal of mine.”

He was feeling so relieved and so grateful that it didn’t even occur to him that he was speaking so casually…and essentially asking Ronald to have a two-day date with him.

Ronald blinked, “As much as having a day off—let alone two—would be fantastic, I can’t cook worth shit. I set the kitchen on fire every time I try and Grell-senpai banned me from ever trying it again after I set off the fire alarm in my apartment which is close to his, and his sprinklers went off same as mine when he was leaving for a date.” He held up his hand, a small still-fading scar circling his thumb, “Cut off my thumb once, too…and I wasn’t cooking. I was just trying to cut a slice of cheese.”

"Gracious," remarked William with a stare. "Well then, I’ll cook and you can be in charge of handing over ingredients to me as I do so. I can’t imagine you getting into a terrible amount of trouble that way."

"Or I can handle the drinks. I’m great at mixing them!" Ronald boasted, and then paused, remembering who he was talking to, "Uh, Not just alcoholic drinks. I’m good at other drinks, too."

"Oh?" William took another bite of his soup and he washed it down with a swallow of water. "I’m rather fond of fruity smoothies. If I were to pick up some fresh fruit for the juicer, do you think you could manage that?"

Ronald nodded, “Of course. Make those all the time. Would you like it with, or without the vodka?” he added the last bit with a tease, his foot nudging Will’s under the table before he could stop himself.

"With Vodka or Rum would be ideal on a day that I plan to imbibe," answered William with another little smirk, "but let’s just see where the weekend takes us, shall we? It could be quite some time before we have the opportunity to indulge ourselves."

"Hopefully before this war ends…unless it ends tomorrow. That’d be nice." Ron chuckled, inwardly surprised that William Spears wanted alcohol in his drink. In some ways, he’d always imagined William to be more like Alan when it came to alcohol. Alan always refused it when it was offered. But then again…Will worked harder than anyone. Maybe a glass or two after work helped? Even if he didn’t get drunk and just took the edge off life.

"It would, but it’s highly unlikely." William sighed and spooned up another bite of soup. "I haven’t a clue how long we can expect this conflict to go on, sadly. It could end in a few months or it could last for years. So many nations are embroiled in this war now. I can’t imagine it getting resolved quickly."

He resumed eating, maintaining proper table manners despite his hunger.

"It’s like the Great War all over again…only worse in some ways…" Ronald said, talking around his food, "But in that one I got to stay in London."

"This is quite possibly the worst mortal conflict I’ve ever witnessed," remarked William. "Though I am sure the Undertaker and other reapers before us have seen their share of terrible ones, too. I have often wondered if his madness sprang from seeing too many mortal wars, or being part of extra planar wars himself. Both he and Father Anderson served in the largest conflict to occur in the Shinigami realm in the history of our kind. The Demon Wars, if you have ever read about them. I wonder how many reaper deaths they bore witness to…and how many of those were friends."

He took another sip of his water. “It puts it all into perspective, when one considers it. Perhaps Anderson did not see as much as Legendary Death. He was assigned a non-combat position as a lookout, so I imagine he did not see so much of it up close and personal. Undertaker, however, was in the front ranks. He was a major combatant.”

William’s thoughts again went to the blank records that had been showing up with greater frequency. Could the old legend be responsible? What purpose could it possibly serve to erase all life events from a cinematic reel, and how would one even go about doing so?

"All I know of that war is that it happened and it ended in the forming of a treaty between reapers and demons… and angels, as well as a prevention of a war with them in the future. We had to memorize the terms of the peace treaty, but never learned much of the actual war." Ronald shrugged, sipping his milk and immediately wiping his lip just in case.

William nodded. “Yes, the constraints laid down upon us concerning interference with contracts between mortals and demons were a part of that treaty. Before that, contracted humans appeared on the death lists and Dispatch agents were encouraged to attempt collection before their demons could dine on their souls. I’m not particularly thrilled that we now must allow those vile beasts to feed on their contractees, but it was a necessary compromise. In addition, we are restricted from interfering with angelic ‘purification’ missions, provided they are sanctioned by the divine council. It’s all very tedious, in my opinion.”

He finished off his soup and he sat back with a sigh, pushing his bowl away. “Perhaps we’ll have our answers concerning the erased cinematic records, before this conflict is over.”

"Well, I hope so. I don’t want to see it continue. We are losing a lot of souls between demons and blanks." Ronald opened his packet of crackers and used one to scoop up the remaining soup with it. "Paperwork for it sucks."

"Agreed," muttered William. He checked his watch. "I estimate we should be finished with today’s collections by nightfall if we leave within fifteen minutes. I would like for this day to be finished, quite honestly."

"Cake first," Ronald reminded, finishing up the last bite of his soup. "Us sharing one shouldn’t take us too long to eat. Do you want to go get it, or should I?"

"You choose," decided William. "I’ll wait here."

With a nod, Ronald pushed himself to his feet, making sure his legs were steady before walking away from the table—only to stop mid-stride half way there to turn around and walk back. “I forget I’m in Germany and don’t speak the language,” he admitted, embarrassed.

"I’ve forgotten that as well," confessed William dryly. He wasn’t usually the sort to be so forgetful himself, but the experience with the landmine had shaken him up as much as it had Ronald. He got up to go and make the order. "I won’t be long."

"I shall be here trying not to grow a white mustache." Ronald grinned, picking up his half-drank glass of milk. He’d saved some to go with the cake.

William returned after a few minutes with a slice of cake split onto two plates. He set them down and took his seat again, gazing at his share with an odd sense of trepidation. How many memories might come flowing back, the moment he had his first taste of Black Forest cake since childhood? Memories of his father striking his hands with the extendable pointing rod he used during lessons, whenever William failed to answer a question. Memories of his mother sneaking this very same cake to him in his bedroom at night, because if he didn’t excel at his lessons, his father would deny him dessert after supper.

He stared down at his portion as Ronald began to dig in, absently rolling a cherry around in the dollop of whipped cream on it. Unbeknownst to him, his expression betrayed his sadness as he began to miss his mother.

"Now this is what I call dessert!" Ronald hummed in content as he flavor assaulted his tongue, "Totally makes up for the endless potatoes!" He glanced up at William and frowned. "You okay?"

William shook himself out of it and slipped his mask of stoicism on again, nodding. “Of course. I was just allowing my stomach to rest for a moment before eating mine.”

He began to dig in, and to his surprise, the familiar taste of the dessert brought back more good memories than bad.

* * *

  
The pair got back to their hotel room late. Their paperwork had taken longer to complete and file away than they had expected causing them to delay their return to their temporary home. Two AM struck on the large clock tower a few blocks away from the hotel, causing Ronald to groan as he opened the door with their key.  
  
“Two in the bloody morning…and we both need showers. Who’s the lucky one to get it first?”  
  
The blond slumped against the wall and reached down to take off his shoes and socks first before moving to his uniform. The uniform was ruined, so he didn’t bother taking care of it, simply dropping it to the floor by his feet until he was only in his slacks. His muscles flexed as he stretched and moved his arms to try and relieve some of the tension that had built up, and he cracked his neck. Dirt and scorch marks had found its way to his skin, the back of his left shoulder having gotten hit the worst, the skin inflamed from a burn.  
  
“I’m gonna be sore tomorrow for sure…”

"You should go first," offered William. "You took the worst of it…again." He nearly smirked at Ronald, but he caught himself before making the teasing expression. He really needed to avoid flirting with him, if at all possible.

"Thanks, Will." Ronald flashed a soft smile and leaned in without thinking, his exhausted mind forgetting to put up a wall of self reminders that they were work partners and nothing more as his lips brushed against the man’s cheek in a fleeting kiss. He turned into the bath and closed the door, locking it before he froze in realization at what he’d done.

William stood there in a stupor, watching as the blond vanished behind the bathroom door. “Oh, heavens,” he muttered to himself harshly, “it was merely a gesture of gratitude. No need to get flustered.”

But flustered, he was. His thoughts about Ronald were anything but professional or pure, and he sighed. What a horrid leader he was…lusting after his subordinate so much.

Ronald sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do to take back his action, and he couldn’t avoid facing William for long. He turned on the water and stepped in, taking his time in showering, letting the soap and water wash away the sweat and dirt, through he babied his burned shoulder when he scrubbed it. It’d be healed by morning, but it did hurt.  
  
Once he was done and dry, he slipped on his boxers and walked out of the bathroom, his glasses steamed over.  
  
“Uh, you’re turn,” he said, looking away, “and…sorry I didn’t mean to—you know…I’m just real tired and wasn’t thinking…” he apologized, his cheeks flushing.

"Think nothing of it," excused William, his own cheeks still warm. "We are, both of us, exhausted and fatigue tends to make one careless."

He gathered his pajamas and went into the bathroom for his turn. As he turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature, he could not get his mind off of that seemingly innocent little kiss. He and Ronald had grown much closer, and the bond was getting stronger with each day. Was it really so improper to begin thinking of him as a lover, as well as a comrade? After all, soldiers formed close bonds in war. He smirked as he undressed and stepped into the shower. He doubted most soldiers considered shagging their companions, though.

William sighed and let the water spray over him, bowing his head. He’d been through these self-arguments before. Just because he had developed an attraction—even feelings—for Ronald, did not mean that he had an excuse to act on it. He took his time, turning the heat down to cool his ardor. He needed to focus. When this was finished and they no longer had the stress of war influencing their thoughts and feelings, perhaps he and Ronald could sort this out.

He finished up and dried off, before slipping into his pajamas and towel-drying his hair. He combed it into place and exited the bathroom, trying to keep things on a more casual level with his partner. “I believe I shall order dinner to be brought to our room, rather than dining downstairs,” he announced. “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I’m personally not in the mood to dine with strangers tonight.”

Ronald grunted and rolled over, having been in a doze on his bed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before grabbing his glasses and pushing them back on his face, “I dun’ wanna really put clothes back on,” he yawned. “Forgot about Dinner…yeah, probably shouldn’t skip that.” He stretched as if he was going to stand back up, but instead he fell back across his bed, arms spread out.  
  
“Order something that will come fast and can be eaten fast, though…don’t want to use it as a pillow.”

William smirked, sharing his sentiments. “Perhaps something from the sandwich selection, then.”

He picked up the menu sitting on the table and he carried it over to the phone to order. “Would you prefer roast beef, ham or the potato sandwich?” He kept his tone casual as he glanced at the blond, awaiting his reaction and answer.

"Ham," Ronald said quickly. "No more potatoes tonight for Knoxy. —With extra cheese if possible," he added as an afterthought.

The fact that Ronald didn’t even blink when William teasingly told him there was a potato sandwich on the menu testified that the blond was finally getting used to the German love for the root vegetable. He glanced at the menu again and he blinked. There actually _was_ a potato sandwich on the menu. German potato salad on rye.

"Goodness," he muttered. So much for his attempt at a joke. He picked up the phone and dialed room service to order Ronald’s choice and a roast beef sandwich for himself. Once he’d finished with that, he relaxed on his bed. At least these accommodations offered two twin beds, rather than one double or queen. He honestly feared his hands might wander in his sleep if he had to share a bed with Ronald again—especially after that little peck on the cheek, earlier.

William picked up the book he’d brought and he turned his bedside lamp on a dim setting to begin reading it. “Ronald,” he said absently, “Teach me to say something in Italian. I’m rather interested in learning the language, eventually. Perhaps I can teach you a few simple phrases in German, as well.”

"Hmmm… ‘ _Lavoro straordinario succhia palle,’_ " he said slowly so that the man could hear how he spoke the words.

“ _Lavoro straordinario succhia palle,_ " repeated William slowly, careful to enunciate each word the way Ronald had. "Now, what did I just say?"

Ronald snickered and tried hard to hold back laughter. “Finally, the man admits it!” He sat up and crawled to the edge of his bed, a cocky grin on his face. “You just admitted that Working overtime sucks balls.”

William’s first reaction was to get annoyed, but instead, he found a smile growing on his lips. As much as he assigned it to both himself and his underlings, he despised overtime as much as the next reaper. “Well then, I suppose it does,” he agreed. “A necessary evil, nonetheless.”

"Necessary, sure, but you are the only person I know who doesn’t complain about it! Well, at least not openly and where others can hear you. Give the impression that you like it which just isn’t natural."

"I assure you, I like it no better than you. I’ve been longing for a day off since…well, since I first became supervisor of our department. Sometimes I miss the days of taking orders, rather than giving them."

He tilted his head as he looked up from his book again at the blond. “Would you like to learn a phrase in German?”

"Hmmm…here’s an order, then." Ronald stretched himself over the gaps between the beds and settled himself on William’s, folding his legs, "Teach your sexy junior some German until dinner gets to the door. Something useful so I’m not so lost in this country."

William was so distracted by the sudden change of Ronald’s location that he spoke without fully considering the connotations of the phrase. “ _Steigen sie mit mir aus, bitte._ ”

"What’s it mean?" Ronald asked, taking caution before repeating the words. He didn’t want to unknowingly agree to not complain about overtime once they got back to London—or something.

"Get off with me," answered the brunet. His eyes widened behind the lenses of his glasses as he realized how that sounded. "As in off a bus or other transport," he hastily explained, his face heating with embarrassment. He glanced at Ronald from behind his book, hoping the blond’s mind didn’t go to pornographic places. He could see by the smirk on his lips that it had, and he lifted the book up to hide his face as his blush deepened.

"Hmm, has it been that long for you?" Ron smirked, "So long that you’re feeling the need and so your mind’s in the gutter, taking the dirty meaning over the obvious one?" He nudged the man’s leg with his foot and scootched closer, lowering his voice. "If you need it, just tell me."

William lowered the book and stared at him, properly flabbergasted. Did Ronald just…offer himself to him? “I beg your pardon?” His eyes swept over the blond, lingering on his bare chest and abs. Good heavens, that was a tempting offer. All of his propriety nearly went out the window. He started to lean in closer to the attractive young blond, his pulse quickening. “What if I were to take you up on that offer, Knox?”

“Not tonight, of course—way too tired.” Ron shrugged as if it was no big deal, “But like, this weekend when we have more time off according to our schedule…I could go out on my own for a bit while you do whatever you do for it.”

Really, he wanted to offer it himself, but he refused to let himself. It wouldn’t be meaningless on his part, and he knew he’d hurt himself emotionally having casual sex with his crush—far more than knowing the man was having sex with someone else.

William blinked, finally realizing that he was speaking of something else entirely. He felt an unreasonable sense of disappointment. Of _course_ Ronald would offer for him to…arrange a meeting with another party. Why did he entertain thoughts to the contrary?

"I…see." William pulled back, faintly mortified that he’d come close to cupping the back of Ron’s head and crushing his mouth against his for the kiss he’d so often been fantasizing about. "That will not be necessary, Ronald. I do appreciate the offer."

_~I’d have appreciated you offering_ your _body to me even more, but that is such a foolish, unprofessional notion.~_

He wondered if it just came naturally for Ronald Knox to flirt without conscious thought. He’d been so sure for a moment that the younger reaper…but then, the kiss from earlier had addled his thoughts…made him imagine things that weren’t there. How silly of him. He tried to return his attention to his book and forget about the moment he’d felt that might have resulted in him shagging his underling into a coma.

Ronald opened his mouth to respond when a knock on the door interrupted. With a tired groan, Ronald pushed himself up and walked over to get their dinner, tipping the busboy who brought it up to them before handing William his plate, “Finally, we can eat and pass out for a few hours!” he grinned, sitting back on his own bed, plate on his lap, and biting into his ham sandwich.

William put his book aside and accepted the plate with a polite nod of thanks. “Yes, I quite agree with you on that front.” He picked up his sandwich and bit into it, hardly even tasting it. He ate mechanically, glad to have something to distract him from the idiot thing he’d nearly done.

They ate in silence, a thin fog of awkward energy between them until Ronald was more than half-finished with his dinner. “Hey—Senpai…Have you ever…you know, liked someone you know you shouldn’t?” He asked in a more serious tone than before when he’d been being playful and teasing the man.

William paused and looked at him sidelong. “Undoubtedly.”

"…What do you do about it?" Ron continued in inquiry as he looked up at the man. "I mean, especially when you’ve been crushing on them for so long and it only gets stronger instead of fading away like you thought because…yeah, not so great an idea to try and pursue…"

William felt that the subject was hitting far too close to home. “I…generally remind myself that partaking in my desire wouldn’t be wise of me. It doesn’t prevent me from…wanting.”

Dear gods, he felt himself getting hot under the collar again, and he reached up to flick the top button of his pajama top open. It seemed he could not even gaze upon Ronald anymore without entertaining lustful thoughts.

"Did it ever get easier? Or like, go away? I mean, It’s been years, and it’s exhausting, to be honest," the blond admitted, taking another casual bite of his sandwich. "Sorry," he added around his mouthful, "I tend ta take whatever’s in my head at the time and run my mouth about it when I’m exhausted…"

William slowly shook his head. No, it did not get easier. If anything, it only seemed to get stronger the more he resisted it. “It does not go away, Ronald. I wish it would, but I’m afraid once the mind and heart sets their sites, it cannot be so easily dismissed.”

_~Stop looking so blasted appealing.~_

He wanted to grab him and kiss him. William had never felt this strongly before. It disturbed him. Taking care of his baser needs through casual encounters was all well and good; but this was something different; and he could not define it.

"Ronald…" he didn’t know what he wanted to say. Invite him back to his bed? Ask him to stop looking so attractive? Confess his feelings?

"What did you do? You know, when it happened to you?" Ron asked, finishing his sandwich and setting his plate aside before pulling his covers back to slide under, "or wish you would have done…"

William tried hard not to stare at him. “I did nothing. I simply…hid it…and still do. I have never acted on the desire I feel, though I fantasize about doing so more often than I’d like to admit.”

Goodness, was the room heating up, or was it just him? His glasses were steaming over from the body heat he was putting off, and William demonstrated uncommonly bad table manners by cramming his sandwich into his mouth just to keep himself occupied.

"I was hoping you had some great words of advice on the subject, Senpai," Ron sighed, "It’s driving me nuts trying to ignore my feelings. I’m gonna end up like that crazy old geezer back in London if this keeps up! Giggling to myself over nothing…"

William smirked and finished swallowing the last bite of his sandwich. He washed it down with a few swallows of iced tea before answering. “Have you considered telling the object of your affections how you feel?”

At once, he felt a sharp spur of jealousy stab at him. Just _who_ had managed to gain the affections of Ronald Knox to the point where the notorious heartbreaker suffered such distraction? He thought it was better that he not know. His feelings for the boy had grown so unprofessional lately that he dared not trust himself with such information. He might just be tempted to arrange an accident…and that bit of self-awareness frankly terrified William.

"Because I may as well step on another land mine if I do," the blond groaned. "No way am I his type."

"How can you be sure? They may surprise you." William felt like a hypocrite even as he said it. _He_ certainly wasn’t making any moves…but he felt he had more reason not to. In addition to Ronald being a coworker and subordinate, the timing was horrendous and now, he knew Ronald already had eyes for another.

_~And why in bloody hell am I encouraging him to act on his feelings, knowing now that it would eat me alive with jealousy to see him with someone else?~_

William checked a sigh as he put away his dish and finished off his drink.

Ron gave a little shrug, “He don’t date…” he muttered.  
  
~ _Not to mention you hardly knew I existed up till recently, and you focus on your work way too much to have time for me,~_ he thought sadly, punching his pillow into shape and flopping down onto it, arms folded up underneath.

William frowned at that. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one at Dispatch practically married to his job. It sounded like he had a lot in common with whomever this fellow of Ron’s fancy was, and that irritated him even more. Bad enough that the boy’s affections were focused on another, but it would bother him less if he at least sounded like a vastly different person for himself. He couldn’t explain why it insulted him…except that he wondered why _he_ was being overlooked, if a workaholic was what Ronald wanted.

Perhaps he was simply jumping to conclusions, though. There could be another reason why the man did not date. “Does he object to dating on some sort of moral grounds?”

It wasn’t common for reapers to suffer compunctions about sexual relationships outside of matrimony, given they typically weren’t religious…but stranger things had happened. He dug his toothbrush, floss and toothpaste out of his toiletry bag so that he could clean his teeth before bed.

Ron shrugged. “Not that I know of. I just know he doesn’t.” He paused, thinking back. “Probably just work reasons, really.”

"Hmm. Well, perhaps it’s for the best," reasoned William. It made him feel selfishly a bit better to hear that Ronald doubted anything would ever come of it, and he decided he needed to come to terms with his feelings and decide what—if anything—to do about them. "Excuse me; I need to brush my teeth."

He went into the bathroom to take care of that matter, and he admonished himself. “Knox isn’t for you,” he whispered, “so stop this nonsense. You are allowing feelings of comradery in a time of strife develop into something inappropriate.”

He could sit there and reason with himself all he liked, but he couldn’t stop the jealousy at the thought of another laying hands on Ronald. He brushed his teeth vigorously and he got a bit rough with his flossing, making his gums bleed. With a sigh, he rinsed his mouth out and brought his oral hygiene items back out to put them away.

"Goodnight, Mr. Knox," he said as he climbed back into his bed again. He didn’t bother trying to read more of his book; he was far too distracted. He took his glasses off and slipped on his eye mask to help him sleep, and he reached out blindly to click off his bedside lamp.

Ronald had already drifted off, and was only conscious enough to respond with a small hum. Though his mind was still active, twisting images in his dreams of him finally confessing to William, pressing up against him, kissing him—and being kissed and held in return. He’d been having such dreams more and more the longer they stayed in Germany, and he was glad they had separate beds, given his habit of cuddling up to things in his sleep—and the morning wood his dreams gave him.

* * *

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Deciding that perhaps he might take Ronald up on his offer and arrange some company of the erotic kind, William discreetly tucked away some items into his uniform just in case the next morning. He thought it would be crass to bring an escort to their room, so he thought he might call up one of his…contacts…for such endeavors and have them meet up with him at some other location for a tryst. Perhaps if he had a meaningless encounter and got his sexual frustration out of his system, he could stop thinking such inappropriate thoughts about Knox…but it would have to wait until the day’s collections were completed.

They returned to the same place the next day to collect more records; this time within the besieged city rather than outside of it. It appeared that the Nazi forces were winning out, but they still had a ways to go before the completely took over Kharkov. They discovered two more cases of empty reels before their daily assignments were even halfway over with, and by noon, they had battled their way through several lesser demons. Bombs and grenades went off as they passed through the combat zones in the streets, and between avoiding those and dodging bullets, William wondered how on earth they were going to make it through the day without injury.

They turned down a broken street to head for the next name on the death list, and William saw an ominous sight sailing through the air toward them, aimed at a group of Red Army agents just up ahead. He grabbed Ronald by the arm and yanked him into an abandoned bread shop, just as the arching grenade hit the street outside. William slammed the door shut and went to the floor with Ronald, covering his body with his own without thought. The sound of screams could be heard and one of the windows shattered from the concussive force, but this time, no debris landed on the two reapers.  

Ronald had been distracted as they walked and the sudden move had taken him by surprise. One second he was walking alongside William, the next he was pinned down to a floor by the man, and his cheeks heated. It took him a moment to realize what had happened and why.  
  
“Are you okay, Senpai?” He asked, propping himself up slightly and causing their head’s to knock together. “Ow! S-sorry.” He rubbed his head.

William grunted in surprised pain and rubbed his forehead, before straightening his glasses. He looked down at the smaller reaper beneath him and he was just about to snap at him for head-butting him, when another explosion occurred outside. He compressed his lips, his nerves stretching taut. It was too much…the noise, the gore, the screams…he’d been holding it together so far, but he kept picturing that look on Ronald’s face when he’d stepped on that landmine just yesterday. The fighting was too heavy for them to safely move outside right now, and they’d both taken enough damage on the job already. He glanced around and he spotted a storage area in the back, away from the entrance with a heavy, reinforced door. He presumed that was where they kept most of the baking supplies.

Climbing to his feet, he offered a hand to Ronald. “Come. We shall wait this out and move again when the fighting outside moves on to another area.”

Were this place under siege from an air raid, there would be no way he’d suggest holing up inside a building again. Everything happening outside was ground fighting, however, and the storage room would provide enough protection until they could either move on or were forced to portal out for safety.

Ronald nodded and took William’s hand, letting him help to pull him to his feet and lead him further away from the doors and windows, and into the storage. His hand never letting go of Will’s the whole way, even as they closed themselves up in the small closet-like room lined with shelves, all mostly empty as if it had been raided or the owner packed it all up and left when the fighting started getting too close.  
  
“Damn,” Ron sighed, leaning against the door. “This so sucks.”

William clicked on the overhead light bulb so that they could see a little better. It flickered weakly before coming on, casting the storage room in dim light. With a glance down, he realized his gloved hand was still clasped firmly in Ronald’s. He met the blond’s eyes and he started to say something—perhaps to try and reassure him—but then the floor vibrated with another grenade explosion that must have occurred just outside the building, and he impulsively pressed up against him, instead.

Will had never been a particularly protective individual. He watched his colleagues backs when out on assignment with them, true, but more often than not he found himself trying to shield Knox with his own body. After the incident with the mine, it seemed to be an even stronger urge. He thought of the mortals he’d seen blown apart or burned alive, and he closed his eyes and shook his head as his mind painted a picture of any of that happening to Ronald.

"Knox," he said, opening his eyes again. Ronald was staring back at him. His breath quickened with something not quite anxiety. He felt an urgency that was both sexual and emotional, and it was nothing like anything he’d ever felt before.

Ronald’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze met Will’s. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt a…spark? Something more than his usual little crush. More explosions sounded outside, but he hardly noticed them as he lifted his free hand and rested it on Will’s shoulder, gripping it.  
  
A kiss…  
  
It’s all he wanted in that moment. it’s all he could think about and before he knew it, he’d met his boss’ thin lips with his own. William felt a shiver race through him at the touch of those lips against his, and that shiver became a quake. He kissed Ronald back and he forgot all about propriety and his doubts. He pressed Ronald up against the wall, tongue lancing into his mouth demandingly as he snapped and gave in to his feelings. His knee pushed between the blond’s thighs and his leather-encased fingers slid through Ronald’s dual-toned hair, curling into it and forcing his head back further. He ravished his mouth, teeth scraping against the blond’s in his desperate passion.

He wanted to devour him. He wanted to tear his clothes off and have him right there in that tiny storage room, lay into his body and forget about the living hell they were in. Ronald’s uniform hat fell to the floor, and William knocked his own off as well. The blond’s toned, smaller frame fit against his as if it were meant for him, and he pressed harder against it, grinding his body against Ronald’s with needy felicity.

Everything around them was falling apart, but this…ah, this made it all go away. 

Wait—what was happening? Lips responding to his? No lecture? No rejection or reminders that it was inappropriate behavior for work? It was all too good to be real. Was it real? Ron opened his eyes to make sure it was really William who was so needfully assaulting his mouth in return.

William was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice Ronald’s confusion. All he knew was that the blond was responding to his kisses, and he wanted more. He practically shoved Ronald up against the wall and he further deepened the kiss. The booms of explosions outside and the sound of gunfire rattling seemed a distant thing to him…unimportant now. He recalled something Ronald had mentioned about restraint, and he stopped clutching his hair to reach down and grab his wrists, and then he forced them up over the younger reaper’s head and pinned them there.

Want…need…desire…it was all the same to William, right now. All of that pent up frustration and attraction was finally being vented…protocol be damned.

Oh sweet Rhea!  
  
Ronald groaned, his uniform slacks growing tight quickly. William was pushing his limits. No, destroying them. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of, except—  
  
“No…no,” he gasped, reluctantly turning his head away, leaving William’s lips on his ear instead—which wasn’t any better, “I can’t! Not with you…not casually. Fuck, I’ll hate myself for this later…”

William was so inflamed with passion that it took a moment for Ronald’s protest to register in his brain. When it did, it hit him as hard as the building that crashed down on them before they came to this place.  
  
~ _That’s right…he wants another. Not you, Spears.~_  
  
But then why had he initiated that kiss? It confused and frustrated him, but he was not a vulgar man. He released his hold on the blond with a gasp and he pulled away, averting his gaze.  
  
“I apologize,” said William stiffly, regretting letting himself go like that. Perhaps Knox briefly saw in him something that reminded him of whomever held his affections.  
  
Rejected and mortified, William bent over to retrieve his forgotten uniform hat. He brushed it off before replacing it on his head. “It won’t happen again, Knox.”

Ronald took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down, “Sorry—I would, but, It’s you. I mean, you aren’t the reason I can’t…it’s totally me, but it’s because it’s you—I mean…” Ugh, he sounded like a babbling idiot. But he didn’t want William to misunderstand. There had been people who used him before. Knowing his reputation, they took what they wanted from him and he’d let them—but there was too much real emotion this time.  
  
He clenched his fists. Maybe it was best to come clean to the man after this? It was the only real way he could think of making sure the handsome older reaper could know why he couldn’t have casual sex with him—or anything close to it.  
  
“I told you before; I don’t do things when there are real one-sided feelings behind it.”

"I…see." William cursed himself vehemently inside. He’d given too much away. Well bloody hell…of _course_ he had! Shoving the man against the wall to snog him in the middle of an assignment was a rather blatant reveal of desire. So, Ronald had no reciprocal desire for him. He’d already presumed as much, believing now that the boy’s hasty, embarrassed action for that little kiss on the cheek yesterday was due to fear of leading him on…and it had, in a way. This was why William did not date. He’d learned that lesson in academy, and yet he’d foolishly begun—against his better judgment—to entertain thoughts of making an exception. Whatever had grown between himself and Ronald, it clearly was not as he’d deluded himself into thinking.

"Well, thank you for informing me of how you feel, Knox. I am not in the habit of making advances on parties that aren’t interested. I misread you and convinced myself of a moment that only existed to me."

Heavens, he wished that he could slice out his own cinematic record of that “moment” and forget his own stupidity.

"Yeah…sorry, I knew you didn’t feel the same way which is why I didn’t tell you, but kinda have to, now… I can’t because it’d get my hopes up, and it’ll hurt more when things return to normal." He turned away and ran his finger through some spilled flour on a shelf. "Of course now it’ll be awkward for you to know how I feel about you while we work together…"  
  
He was an idiot. He’d even been the one to start the damned kiss! And then he’d pulled back his offer and….  
  
“…If it’s too much for you, I’ll put in for a transfer to a different district after this or… I’m sorry, Senpai.”

William’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a moment…did you just say—”

Another explosion occurred outside, and this one must have hit the building they were in. The overhead light swayed and flickered, and one of the shelves inside of the storage room rocked and fell over. William pressed Ronald up against the wall again, once more shielding him instinctively. When it settled, he looked into his eyes again. Perhaps he hadn’t heard him right over all the noise.

"Ronald, did you just say how _you_ feel about _me_?”

"Of course! What else would it be?" Ron pointed out, flushing again, "There’s a reason I offered you the room to yourself if you wanted rather than, you know, me. You know you can move now, sir. I mean…no more falling selves for the moment…"

William did not immediately move, because he was too stunned and pleased that Ronald reciprocated his affections, after all.

_~I’m the workoholic he was speaking of? Honestly, I feel so dense. The clues were right before me, but I didn’t notice them.~_

This was no way to conduct a romantic interlude, however. True, he had things on him that would aid such an encounter, but shagging the boy in a storage closet while grenades and bullets were flying outside wasn’t ideal. The wicked side of him chose not to comment further on it, for the moment. He considered it repayment for flirting with him and kissing him, only to reject him when he responded. He fully intended to show Ronald how he felt, since he was so blasted awful at expressing with words…but not now. Not in this setting.

"We shall discuss this later," he decided aloud, finally pulling away from him. "Our objective should remain on gathering the records and making it safely through this day. As soon as the fighting moves on, we can leave this building and map out our next path."

Ronald looked down and nodded. So maybe William did want him to transfer out.  
  
“Sorry again, sir—I promise I’ll work hard.”

* * *

 

William’s pleasure at learning that Ronald desired him after all was spoiled a bit when their next target was devoid of records as well. He swiped uselessly at them and gnashed his teeth in frustration.

"It seems to be spreading like a plague," he observed, "And it’s being encountered all across Europe. Mark another failed collection on the list, Knox."

Ronald sighed and pulled out their paperwork and a pen, marking the soul as blank. “This is getting out of hand!” He complained. “Whatever is doing this needs to get itself shot and blown up!”

"I’m very curious," remarked the brunet. His phone began to buzz and he dug it out of his pocket to look at the ID. "It’s Slingby," he sighed.

Putting it to his ear, he answered the device. “This is Spears.”

"Hey, boss," said the Scotsman, "I’ve go’ some news for ya. Are ye somewhere ya can talk?"

William glanced around. Currently they were in an empty part of the city. Most of the fighting had moved further towards the center. “Yes, I believe I am. What is it?”

"Grell an’ his partner are in tha hospital. Seems him an’ Jeffries ran into some trouble in Auschwitz. We’re no’ sure wha’ happened, ‘cause they were both found unconscious by a couple German dispatch officers workin’ tha area. Tha board wants yeh an’ Knox tae investigate. From wha’ I hear, they went back there again after doin’ a few assignments in Romania. Guess they go’ a lead concerning those empty records."

"I see." William checked his death list and his watch. "And when are we expected to be there?"

"By tomorrow at noon," replied Eric. "Ye’ll have time tae finish t’day’s collections an’ get some rest. Ya can take a portal from tha nearest Dispatch division HQ near yeh."

Getting used to being assigned all over Europe at short notice, William checked a sigh. “Understood. We shall be on site in a timely manner. Please keep us informed on Sutcliff and Jeffries’ condition, and relay any information they can recall to us as soon as they are coherent enough to report.”

"Will do, boss," agreed Eric. "Watch yerselves ou’ there. Whatever took ‘em down must have been powerful."

"Agreed. Have a pleasant day, Mr. Slingby."

He hung up the phone and he looked at Ronald. “We are to travel to the Auschwitz concentration camp tomorrow, to investigate the goings-on there. Mr. Sutcliff and Mr. Jeffries have both been hospitalized after sustaining injuries that incapacitated them both.”

"Wait—what?" Ronald gasped, snapping his full attention back to William, "What happened to them? Is Grell-senpai okay? I mean, Jeffries I hope is okay, too, but there isn’t much out there that can take Grell down!"

"I don’t have any details, yet," explained William. "Dispatch has no idea what sort of opposition they ran into. They are fortunate to be alive and they _will_ recover, but we must be especially careful when we go to investigate this matter. We should try to finish this day’s collections as quickly and safely as possible, and get plenty of rest tonight.”

He silently groused over it…selfishly, perhaps. Tonight might not be the best time to show Knox that his affections were not one-sided. There were more important things at stake here than servicing his libido, however. Ronald was right; anything that could dispatch Grell so easily was something worth being wary of.

Ronald groaned and rubbed his temples, “So much for my plans for tonight…” he sighed. He felt a desperate need for a pub of some sort, a place to get drunk and forget about how he’d fucked things up that day with William and the general whole second great war business. Maybe some nice meaningless sex with someone to help prevent any further kissing of an by extension, leading on William into thinking he’d get something meaningless. Even if chances were slight that anyone spoke English or Italian.

"And mine…perhaps," agreed William with a reciprocal sigh. "Come, we have work to do, yet."

They resumed the cheerless business of collecting the souls they were assigned to, finding one more empty set of records by the end of the day. Feet dragging, they made their way to the portal that would take them back to their realm, both of them silent and pensive with their own thoughts.

* * *

 

William got the shower first this time, and after drying off and donning his robe, he gazed at his reflection in the steam-smudged bathroom mirror. Could he do this? Could he actually pursue a relationship with the young reaper in the other room? Ronald was so opposite of him…so wild and free-spirited. However, he’d proven himself time and time again during this endeavor. He could be serious when the situation required it. He was loyal, he was reliable…and he was also so very attractive.

_~You are afraid,~_ admitted the brunet to himself as he put on his glasses, staring into his own eyes through the reflection, _~Afraid of loss…afraid of rejection. Will you never do anything for yourself? Never at least attempt to have something that might make you happy?~_

He could practically hear his mother speaking to him, while at the same time, he imagined his father scolding him, telling him it was a foolish hope to entertain when he had more important things to consider.

William compressed his lips, straightened up and nodded. He was tired of listening to his father’s voice. He was tired of seeking out warm bodies that meant nothing to him, just to release sexual tension. Most of all, he was tired of depriving himself of the basic comforts of affection and contact.

He left the bathroom with purpose, his eyes latching onto Ronald intensely as he walked out with a damp head of hair.

Ronald was sitting on the edge of his bed in his suit he’d worn to Germany, as it was his only clothing he had with him that wasn’t the uniform for fieldwork during the war. He was bent over, tying his shoes.  
  
“Oh just in time. Hey, I wanted to ask before I go out…how do I order a scotch in German? I tried to abstain, but I really need a drink or two tonight.”

William almost stopped his advance, dismayed. No. He’d made his decision. “We can order a bottle from room-service, if you like. You aren’t going out, Ronald Knox.”

He approached the bed and he stood over him, staring down at him with desire and determination. “Things need to be made clear between us. The time for miscommunication must come to an end tonight.”

For once, Ronald didn’t meet his gaze, looking down and away like a new recruit being scolded for filing out his paperwork incorrectly for the tenth time.  
  
“I’d rather go out and be alone for a few hours, sir.” he insisted in a low voice that didn’t suit the young man in the slightest.

William frowned a bit. This wasn’t at all the way he intended for this conversation to go. However, things never seemed to go as planned for him, lately. He reached down to cup the blond’s chin. “Ronald, look at me.” He said it in an uncommonly soft voice. He didn’t always have to play the role of the supervisor. He used a lover’s tone, trying to convey to Ronald something that he wasn’t terribly good at putting into words.

Ronald childishly shook his head. “Stop, please. As much as I’d love to, I can’t sleep with you—I won’t be used by the man I have a stupid unmoving crush on!”

William patiently knelt down before the downcast young reaper. “I’ve no intention of ‘using’ you, Ronald. Today in that storage room, I thought…I was under the impression that you were speaking of someone else, those times you mentioned your interest. I honestly had no idea it was me. I believed you were informing me that you don’t share my…interest.”

He grimaced. Why was this so blood hard?

"And I’m not interested in meaningless sex."

Heavens, he hoped that came out sounding at least partially correct.

Ron’s eyes widened and snapped up to William’s face, “…You’re…having me on!” He accused, unable to believe what he thought he had heard.

"I assure you, I’m not." William got to his feet again, only to sit down beside the younger reaper. He sighed, trying to find the words to explain himself. He stared at the floor, considering his words carefully, with the same meticulousness that he employed with everything else he did.

"Things have changed for me, I think. I was honestly considering arranging for some intimate company with one of my…associates, if only to relieve some frustration and attempt to think with a clearer head. I tried to convince myself that my growing interest in you was merely a symptom of comradery mistaken for more, and that an intimate encounter with another might prove that and set my mind at ease."

He turned his head to look at Ronald, a faintly ironic expression on his face. “I even included certain items when we left to fulfill our mission today, and I was of a mind to contact someone to meet up with me in another establishment for the night, once we finished. Truthfully, the idea has absolutely no appeal to me, now. Not after what happened in that storage room today.”

"And…what was that? What happened today in that storage closet? I know I was there but…I’m a bit confused over what happened. It’s all a blur, really," Ronald looked down at his signature white shoes he wasn’t permitted to wear with his undercover uniform. He still didn’t quite understand what William really meant. It still kind of sounded a little casual to him, but then again, it wasn’t like William was ever very good at expressing any positive emotions. Anger and annoyance he had perfected.  
  
Adding William’s lack of wearing his heart on his sleeve to Ron’s ability to be quite thick when it came to things, the blond knew he had to make sure—without a doubt—what it was William was trying to tell him.

The brunet ran his fingers through his damp hair, frustrated with his own inability to make himself clear in this matter, and Ronald’s inability to read between the lines. “I’m saying,” he began awkwardly, still holding his gaze, “that perhaps it’s time I try dating. Obviously this is not the ideal time for me to come to this revelation. In the middle of a war is not truly the appropriate setting to begin a courtship, but I must at least inform you that my feelings for you have changed. Casual encounters between work duties are no longer a thing that will satisfy me, because…”

He took a slow breath and closed his eyes, pushing himself to go on and just tell him the truth. “Because I fear I would only end up thinking of you each time, Ronald Knox. I would compare my companions to you—pretend it was your skin I was touching, your body I was trading pleasure with. I think that would ultimately prove unsatisfying and frustrating.”

He opened his eyes again and looked at him, trying to keep his tone calm, logical and practical. Still, a husky note of desire bled into his words when he spoke again. “Given the choice of a fantasy or reality, I would prefer the latter.”

"Oh sweet River Styx…you really are saying what I have dreamed of? You actually like me? You want me? I…don’t have to go get drunk and find some one-night stand to try and forget you?" Ronald leaned in closer to William, meeting his gaze. "I don’t have to be afraid of kissing you again?"

William smirked, inwardly relieved that Ronald finally comprehended what he was trying to say. “I think I would be quite miffed if I discovered you slept with another, now…and as for kissing me, I insist you do so now.”

"You have no idea how long I have wanted this!" Ronald’s signature grin spread over his face as he reached out and grabbed Will’s shoulders, pulling him in as their lips crashed together and he tipped William back to lay on the bed.

William’s arms impulsively went around him, his surprise quickly obliterated by the immediate surge of lust and desperation. The only difference was that this time, they were in a bed and safe, rather than holed up in a storage closet in some abandoned, broken down bakery. He returned Ronald’s kisses with enthusiasm that surprised even himself, and his hand slid down to cup the blond’s bottom. Oh, how he wanted to continue what they’d started in that tiny room, but the practical and calculating side of him cautioned that they should try to hold off. While he had no doubt of his personal revelation or Ronald’s sincerity, these were trying times.

He settled for just kissing him and stroking his body, running his hands over his bottom, hips, thighs and back as their mouths exchanged heated kisses. He ached for him, but he could not and would not spoil this new development by rushing it. It was new to them both—particularly him, considering he was used to a kiss leading to sex and then a casual good-bye in the morning.

"Mmmh….can we spend the rest of the war like this?" Ronald groaned happily when their lips parted, "No more paperwork or blank records, no bombs or bullets, no stress or worry… Just…us, wrapped in arms and battling with kisses?"

"I would prefer it that way," agreed William, his lips still caressing Ronald’s throat. "If only this conflict could be resolved simply through snogging each other; but I’m afraid reality must take precedence. At the end of each day, however…"

He kissed Ronald’s lips and ran his hand down his back. “We can forget about this horror and take comfort in each other.”

"I think I could go for that." Ronald smiled, caressing William’s bare shoulder. "Will you be this naked every night?"

William smirked. “I shall try to accommodate that desire, Ronald Knox.”

Closing the distance between their lips again, he let go of his inhibitions and he kissed his companion with heartfelt passion. It was a healing experience for him, and he could only hope that Ronald felt the same.

"And I’ll return the favor." Ron grinned, "Even if it’s just snogging." He wiggled out of his suit jacket and kicked off his shoes. So much for the time he took getting ready for the pub; this was a much better activity.

William drew the smaller reaper into his embrace as Ronald joined him on the bed again, and he resumed kissing him. The sense of urgency from their earlier encounter was not present this time, as there was no impending danger surrounding them. In the bakery, he’d kissed Ronald as if it might be the last thing he ever did. Now he could take his time with it. His tongue languidly stroked the blond’s, and his hand began to flick open the buttons of his shirt. When he had it open to bare Ronald’s chest and stomach, he ran his palm over the toned, smooth torso leisurely. His touch was possessive and confident, silently conveying that the blond was his, now.

"No-one else gets to do this," he murmured huskily between kisses. "No other hand may touch this body, Knox. Only mine, from now on. Well, except for yours, of course."

He couldn’t very well forbid the boy from touching his own body, now could he? He smirked. In fact, he would rather enjoy watching him do that. He wondered how the blond would react if he asked him to fondle himself in front of him.

Ronald’s cheeks flushed from the unexpected reaction William seemed to have. “I don’t play around when I’m serious about someone, Will,” Ronald pointed out. “I won’t cheat on ya. I have more sense than that.”

"It wasn’t a question of your loyalty," promised William, "It was a promise that I will not tolerate another so much as _attempting_ to touch this body.”

He drew away from him and he gazed into his eyes. “I am a territorial man, Ronald, a man who likes to be in control. I trust you. Still, I want you to know that you are _mine_. I’ve seen the way others look at you. I think that it’s only fair to warn you, before we go much further. I am a civilized reaper, but I’m not particularly patient when it comes to sharing…or seeing my lover disrespected.”

He was having difficulty explaining it. He certainly didn’t want Ronald to get the notion that he thought of him as a thing…a piece of personal property…but he wanted to make it clear that he would scythe first and ask questions later if he ever witnessed someone laying hands on the blond. He’d seen Ronald dance before at company parties, and he’d seen the way others sometimes rubbed up against him in response to his sexy gyrations and moves.

"You are…a very attractive reaper," explained William further, once more feathering light kisses over the blond’s neck, "and even before I admitted my attraction to you, I found it difficult to look away whenever I saw you dance. Unlike some, however, I know how to keep my hands to myself. I just want you aware that my scythe might pinch off something vital, if I see another man trying to take liberties with you."

"I can’t help that I was born to be sexy," Ronald shrugged with a smirk. "You’ll have to get used to men and women both ogling me. It won’t stop, even if you stamp my forehead with ‘Boyfriend of William T. Spears’. As for the dancing, maybe you could join me next time to avoid someone else taking the tempting spot? That way you know it’s your hands on me, even if I’m too drunk to realize who’s touching, hmm?"

William scoffed at the notion, his hand sliding up the blond’s side again. “I haven’t even a notion of what sort of dancing that is. I’m afraid that your club style gyrations are not my forte. Ballroom dancing is quite another matter.” He allowed his lips to trail over his collarbone. “And you had better get used to the fact that I’ll not allow others to touch you so familiarly, Ronald Knox. Not if you are with me.”

"Ah, yes, because a ballroom-dancing twinkle-toes will scare away the drunken pub-goers," Ronald teased. "You know, I don’t just dance at clubs." He slipped his arms around William. "I know a few ballroom dances, myself, believe it or not."

"You would be surprised how intimidating this ‘twinkle-toes’ can be, whenever a line has been crossed," promised Will between kisses. He cupped Ronald’s bottom and gave it a squeeze. "I had no idea you could perform a more elegant form of dance. I think I should like to see that, sometime."

"I haven’t done it since before I entered the academy. Probably rusty enough to step on your toes." Ronald shrugged, his hot breath feathering over Will’s skin as he moved to press kisses to his neck and shoulders. "I used to do that a lot, actually. Even my mother didn’t want to dance with me…"

William tugged on the blond’s earlobe with his teeth. “Well, then, we shall have to see about getting you back into practice, won’t we? I might even be inclined to let you teach me some of your modern dance moves—with enough drink in me.”

It was pleasant to just sit there kissing and discussing activities of leisure they would like to do, whenever these dark days were over with. He decided to lie down on the bed, and he drew Ronald down with him. Tracing his nipples with his thumbs, he urged the blond on top of him. He imagined the two of them enjoying an extravagant ball together, dancing in elegant refinery and enjoying a gourmet meal afterwards. Afterwards, he would take Ronald home with him to his apartment and show him what an attentive lover he could be. Perhaps some silk scarves and a blindfold would come into play, and…

…He was getting carried away with his thoughts, and his body was reacting accordingly. It occurred to William that he was grinding against Ronald suggestively, hands clamped down firmly on his tight little ass.

"Heavens, it truly takes very little for me to forget myself with you," he gasped, easing up on his lewd motions. If he wasn’t more careful, he’d surely forget his decision to limit this night to touching and kissing.

"I don’t mind…" Ron moaned, "…feels good, oh Styx…" Ronald was getting flustered and excited himself, and he raised his head to look down at William. "We best make up our minds now on what we do tonight before we pass the point of no return."

Breathing heavily, William struggled with himself. He wanted this reaper badly, but this was a rather new development in their relationship. The logical side of him thought that it was best to progress more slowly, to prove—not just to Ronald, but to himself—that he was capable of being monogamous and did not require sexual intercourse to do so. The trials they’d faced together and the bond they had formed might give them both a good excuse to toss courtship aside and go for it…lose themselves in one another and just give in. However, how much sweeter would their first time be if they held off for a while…got to know each other more intimately and explored one another’s bodies before finally joining?

William sighed, reaching up to trace the youthful features he found so irresistible. “I wish to kick myself even as I say this, but I think we’d best limit it to what we’ve been doing, for now. I am unfamiliar with being in a relationship. Rather than satisfying our deepest baser urges right away, I think I should like to explore on another. I…”

He paused, struggling for words. “Dating is an unfamiliar concept to me, and I believe I need practice.”

"Then I’ll help you." Ronald reluctantly rolled off William and walked over to the chest of drawers William kept his clothes that didn’t need to be hung in the closet. He pulled out his pajamas and tossed them to the robe-clad man. "Cut down on the amount of tempting skin," he said before crawling back into the bed, "I don’t normally wear pajamas…but I can get some to help us both keep control over out little Knoxwurst and Willswurst urges."

The brunet snorted. “You do come up with some interesting terms for body parts, Ronald.”

With a sigh of faint regret, he carried his pajamas into the bathroom to change into them and avoid some of the temptation. Knox was right; too much skin contact might push them both over the edge of common sense.

"Why can’t I name little Knoxy?" Ron pouted, readying himself for bed. He didn’t yet have pajamas, but his boxers were better than nothing.

William opened the bathroom door a crack when he was finished changing. “Ronald, are you changed?”

He didn’t dare peek out. If he saw a flash of nudity from his companion, he just might forget himself again.

"I hope just boxers are okay? I don’t have anything else tonight." Ron said with a nod, climbing into bed.

"Boxers are fine," assured William, smiling a little before opening the door and schooling his expression. He joined Ronald in the bed, and he hesitated for a moment before reaching out to put an arm around him and pull him close.

"I cannot say I’ve ever just…held someone," he murmured. "Do you find that objectionable, Ronald?"

"Only if you object to more snogging." Ronald grinned, pulling him into another kiss. "At least for the next few minutes before we turn in for the night."

"Not in the slightest," agreed William. He kissed him back, and he reached out behind himself to click the bedside lamp off.

The night faded into sounds of kissing, husky whispers and the sliding of material as the two reapers kissed and caressed in the darkness. They fell asleep in one another’s arms, and for perhaps the very first time since childhood, William T. Spears sported a relaxed little smile on his face.

* * *

-To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, We have written a one-shot about Ronald's "friends with benefits" relationship with Eric that was mentioned in an earlier chapter, if you guys are interested in reading it!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3139448


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

As soon as he got word that Alex and Grell had regained consciousness, Eric took the portal to the Auschwitz Dispatch and went to the hospital to check in on them and debrief them. He left Alan in charge of everything until he got back, trusting his partner to handle the added workload long enough for him to get their associates' reports. He went to Alexander's infirmary room first, seeing as the nurses informed him that Sutcliff was currently being examined by a doctor.

"How're ya feelin,' lad?" he greeted as he stepped into the junior agent's room. Alex was sitting up in his bed, watching the television mounted from the ceiling. His head was wrapped and there were drying bloodstains on the gauze.

"Hey Mr. Slingby." Alex's smile was a bit wan, but genuine. He clicked off the television. "Kind of dizzy, but they say I should be fit for release in a few days. Mr. Sutcliff took a worse hit than I did."

"Tha's wha' they told me." Eric sat down in the visitor's chair beside the bed. "So what can ya tell me 'bout yer attacker? Was it a demon? Rival group of reapers?"

"No on the demon, and sort of on the reapers. There was just one guy. We were checking out reports about this doctor that's been doing experiments on the dead. Thought maybe he was behind all the empty records. He turned out to be a reaper, when we found him and confronted him. He handed our butts to us on a silver platter."

Eric regarded him suspiciously. "Wha'd he look like?"

Alex concentrated, wincing at the memory of being assaulted. "Tall, really pale. White-ish gray hair. It was super long; he had it pulled back into a ponytail. I think he's albino or something, 'cause his eyelashes are just as white as his hair."

Eric's heart thudded at the implications. "Did ya notice any scars on his face?"

"Oh, yeah." Alex nodded. "A really _big_ one that went from his left temple all the way down to the right side of his jaw."

Eric swore and got up, startling the younger reaper.

"W-what's going on?"

"I'll tell yeh later," answered the Scotsman over his shoulder as he headed out the door. "Righ' now, I've got tae speak wi' yer partner and confirm somethin'."

Eric went straight to Grell's room, and he ignored the doctor when the man chastised him for barging in while in the middle of an examination. "Clear out," ordered the blond. "I need a few moments alone wi' mah colleague, here."

"But sir," objected the doctor in a heavy German accent, "He still needs—"

"I've got no time tae argue wi' ya, man." Eric advanced on the doctor and glared at him. "Will ya give us a moment alone, or do I need tae toss ye out m'self?"

Intimidated, the doctor shot one more look at his patient and ducked out of the room.

Grell blinked up weakly at the Scotsman, his body covered in bandages much like his partner's, only more-so. His long hair had been pulled into a high ponytail in order to keep it out of the doctor's way when they changed his wrappings and checked on his condition.

"Well, I didn't know you'd be so passionate about me, darling~" He teased with a weak voice, lacking his effeminate flair for once.

Eric didn't react to the comment. Instead, he strode to Grell's bedside and looked him over. Jeffries hadn't exaggerated; he'd taken a beating, all right. "Alex told me tha one responsible fer th' two o' ya being in this condition was a reaper," he informed him, "an' from what I can tell from his description, it sounded a lo' like tha Undertaker. Is tha' who it was, Grell?"

Grell gave a small, pained nod with a smile. "Bastard damaged my face again. He's really going to pay one of these days. I'll give him a whole new scar to add to his collection!"

Eric groaned. "So tha's it, then. We've go' Undertaker tae deal wi', on top of everything else. Wha' can ya tell me 'bout wha' he's up tae, Grell? Did ya find out anything before he put yer lights out? Is he tha one responsible fer tha blank records?"

"No idea." Grell admitted, "Not much talking was done before we had our asses handed to us." He sighed and reached up with his hand that wasn't in a full cast, rubbing his head. "We had just gotten there and saw who he was...then...everything gets all fuzzy. I do remember holding my ground a bit."

The Scotsman retrieved his phone from his blazer and dialed his partner. "Spears an' Knox are 'bout tae walk right in tae tha'. Best make sure they get warned."

As soon as Alan picked up the phone, Eric spoke. "We've go' trouble, Al. I need yeh tae ring up German dispatch authorities an' let 'em know an old fugitive from London's been spotted in Auschwitz, while I try tae reach tha boss an' Knox tae warn 'em. Got confirmation tha' Grell and Jeffries' attacker was Undertaker."

* * *

 

"Well then, let's get started," sighed William as he and Ronald stepped through the portal just outside mortal Auschwitz-Birkenau. The stench of death was strong in the air, and the aura of it clung to so many mortals, it was hard to keep up with who was destined to die and who was simply being drenched the miasma of death surrounding the area.

"I believe the facility we need to investigate should be located here on the map." William activated the navigator and pointed it out in the schematic. "We shall have to pass the...crematoria."

The horrible implication of it made that sickness well inside of him all over again.

Ronald frowned and rubbed William's back. "Try not to think about it. I know this whole war has been bothering you more than the job usually does...I'm here to help if you need it," he promised.  
  
The blond took William's hand and gave it a squeeze, waiting until William showed a sign that he was ready to cross the camp to their destination. The stoic reaper took a slow breath and he nodded, putting one foot in front of the other...slowly at first, and then with more confidence and purpose. They passed by prisoners—mostly Jewish—with shaved heads, emaciated bodies and glazed eyes, carting wheelbarrows or otherwise working labor throughout the compound. They passed SS officers wearing the same sharp looking uniforms that they were dressed in—an ensemble that might have looked attractive, if it weren't for the connotations behind them.

William walked faster, setting his goal on the building that was to be their destination. He stopped in his tracks when he rounded the corner and found a long line of prisoners standing naked in the street, though. His breath caught at the sheer number of Polish reapers he spotted standing around the building, laying in wait and undetected by mortal eyes. The SS officers herded the human traffic on, armed with guns and attack dogs. Frightened sobs could be heard from the lines of doomed prisoners. They might have been told they were only going in to be disinfected for transport, but most of them instinctively knew the truth of it.

_~They're going to kill them all.~  
_

"This way," William said thickly, grabbing Ronald by the arm to drag him down an alleyway and take a bypass. He could sense demonic activity rising in the area, too. There would be competition for those souls, this day.  

Ronald swallowed, trying not to let the sight they had just seen get to him. He was grateful to be collecting on battlefields rather than in camps. He doubted he'd be able to handle it mentally day after day...

  
"Hurry, before demons show up." he stressed, taking William's hand and hurrying them faster around a longer rout to their destination.

They made it to the building reputed to be the site for all of the medical experimentation, and William stopped and held Ronald back. "Just a moment, Knox." His senses screamed at him in warning as he watched a military vehicle getting loaded up with what appeared to be plain, oblong wooden boxes. He could feel the death aura clinging to each box, and he guessed they must be simple coffins. There was a tall man in a lab coat standing there, directing the soldiers that were loading the back of the vehicle up.

"I wonder if that is our culprit," murmured Spears to his companion, nodding at the man. His hair was silver-white and bundled up into a bun. His back was to them, so it wasn't possible to see his face. He got a feeling of dread as he watched him wave his blood-stained, gloved hands. He hoped he was wrong. He pulled out his phone to check on it again, and he shook his head. Still no signal. He had no way of getting in touch with Dispatch to ask about Grell and Alex's condition, or what they remembered seeing before they were attacked.

"Ronald, does your phone have a signal, yet?"

"Nope," Ronald said, unsurprised as he glanced at his phone's screen. Their phones shared a signal, and it was odd that they would have none here. Dispatch-issued phones were supposed to work everywhere in the mortal realm, after all. So the fact that they had none suggested that there was something blocking the signal.

"Damn," muttered Will. He watched as the doctor went back into the building, while the soldiers finished up and closed the back of the vehicle. "Well, there is no help for it. We must proceed with caution, Ronald. We don't know what we may be up against."

Ronald nodded, "Anything that can take down Senpai is something to be wary of," he agreed.

They crept around the building together, and William found a window they could sneak into. He pointed at it and offered a boost to Ronald. When the blond took it and opened the window, William made sure his cloaks were as secure as possible, before climbing up behind his companion to follow him through. His face nearly collided with Ronald's bum and he flushed with embarrassment.

"Careful, Knox," he warned in a bare whisper. "Try not to make a sound when we get inside."

"Sorry—my belt's caught on the latch, I'm stuck!" Ron whispered, reaching back and trying to unhook his belt from the latch on the window, Can you help?"

William grumbled under his breath, reaching up to try and free the clothing article in question. "Back up a bit," he grunted. "No, not _that_ far...!"

Ronald practically sat on his face, and the flush returned to William's cheeks as he backed down to avoid having his head sandwiched between the blond's bum cheeks. As it was, his lips brushed against the right one as he turned his head and for a moment, all he could think of was the time he heard Ronald telling another Dispatch agent to "kiss his ass".

"Oh, honestly," muttered William, fighting a sudden case of unexpected giggles. He cleared his throat and tried again to free Ronald's belt. "H-hold still, Knox. I've nearly got it."

"I'm trying to. It's hard to stay balanced up here like this. I don't want to fall when I come loose! That'd make a lot of noise," Ronald said, looking down at the stacks of crates under the window. "...and pain."

_~Not so much, if my face breaks your fall.~  
_

William kept his thoughts to himself, mortified with the inner confession that he might enjoy cushioning Ronald's bum with his face, should he fall. He did his best to concentrate on the task at hand, until he worked the belt free of the snag. "All right, try it now."

_~And for the love of death, don't look at me. My face must surely rival a cherry in redness.~  
_

Nodding, Ronald tried to move forward again and he managed to slip inside without more problems, letting himself drop to the floor. "Good. We're in." he turned back to help William, just in case he got stuck as well.

Relieved that the fiasco was over with, the older Reaper climbed through the window with his companion's help, and he dropped down lightly on the other side. He put a gloved finger to his lips for silence as he took up the lead, moving from what appeared to be a medical supply area into the hallway.

 Ronald chewed on his lip as he followed; alert and scanning with all his senses for anyone who may be approaching or hidden behind closed doors. Really, he didn't know what they were specifically looking for other than to find out why Grell and Alex had been attacked.

William peered around the corner, holding one hand out behind him in a halting gesture as he listened quietly. He could hear the rattle of medical equipment upon metal trays, and he also heard a low, uneven voice speaking.

 "Well now, that's a good number of your brothers and sisters shipped off, hmm? Not to worry, my dear. They think you're dead, but we know better..." the voice took on a sing-song tone. "Don't weee?"

William felt his heart clench at the sound of that voice.

_~Oh, surely not.~_

He inched further around the corner, halting his breath and doubling up on his camouflage. He could see the man that had been directing the soldiers—once again with his back facing him. Inside the room he was peeking into, the "doctor" had a subject on an operating table. It was difficult to say for certain from his vantage point, but William thought the subject lying on the table looked female. Her feet twitched and her toes curled as the silver-haired stranger worked over her.

"Like that, do you?" said the doctor in a dulcet tone, hand coming up with a needle and thread pinched between the fingers. He chuckled darkly. "Just wait 'till you sink your teeth into the flesh of your killers, darlin'."

William shook his head. No...oh gods, no. Not this. His gloved fingers clenched into a fist. He could sense the reaper aura...and that meant that the "doctor" could probably sense he and Ronald, too.

Ronald inched forward, peaking over William's shoulder so close he had to place a gloved hand on the man's back to help keep his balance. His eyes widened as he took in the same scene William had been staring at.  
  
"...Shit... is that..?" He gasped before slapping a hand over his own mouth to silence himself.

William gave him a brief glare, just as the doctor paused in his work. He continued a moment later, but William could sense that he was smiling. He knew they were there. He honestly didn't know what to do.

"Ronald," he mouthed, looking back at his companion, "teleport outside... _now_. It may give us an advantage."

Ron's eyes grew round, "We aren't supposed to!" he mouthed back, "Bombs and traps and shit!"  
  
After stepping on a mine, he didn't want to risk it. He knew there wouldn't be mines inside the camp but he didn't know what kind of dangers there _would_ be.

William sighed, but he couldn't really blame him. He started to try and suggest a different tactic, but then the man they were observing suddenly spoke up—and he wasn't addressing the subject on his table, this time.

"Might as well come on out, gents. I know you're there. Before y' think of trying to skewer me while my back's turned, I feel it's only fair t' warn you that idea didn't turn out so well for Miss Sutcliff and that young bloke."

William cursed, and he glanced at Ronald. There really was no need to remind him to keep his scythe ready. Stepping out from their cover, William took the lead and he approached the Undertaker with cool dignity.

"Legendary Death," he greeted formally, "We have been sent here to investigate rumors of experiments being performed on the dead. I see those rumors were not unfounded."

The mortician cackled softly. "Very observant of you." He helped the body on his table sit up, and he turned to face the two agents with a smile. "Isn't she lovely?" He gestured at the woman—a victim of the gas chambers, no doubt. Her head was shaved bald like most of the other prisoners destined for execution, and her eyes were blank, staring and swirled with blue.

"...But she's a bizarre doll." Ronald frowned, "Those don't show up on our lists because they've already been collected--what else have you been doing? Not that you should be making your dolls again, either."

"What else do you fellas _think_ I've been doing, eh?" The ancient took his doll's hand and helped her down from the table. Fortunately, she didn't seem interested in either of the two Dispatch agents—yet.

"There have been cases of anomalies within the cinematic records of reaping targets," answered William cautiously. "We have been finding them all over Europe. Would you have anything to do with that, sir?" Despite the things he'd done in the past and evidently were doing once more, William could not bring himself to address this reaper disrespectfully. He was once one of the greatest, after all.

"Hmm, you mean the blank records," surmised Undertaker.

William nodded.

"Well, I'm afraid that's not my doing." Undertaker shrugged, and he peeled his surgical gloves off. "There's a whole different tree you ought t' be barking up, for that one."

"Whadaya mean it isn't you?" Ronald frowned, "Who else could pull stunts like that? Do you know who is responsible?" he questioned, crossing his arms. He eyed the doll. "Why don't you sit your doll back down and just talk to us?"

Undertaker glanced at the reanimated corpse. "Because she needs t' stretch her legs a bit, that's why." He spoke to the doll. "You just nevermind him, dearie. Walk around a bit. There's a good girl."

With jerky motions, the doll began to walk the circumference of the room. William frowned at her in distaste as she came close to him, and he held his scythe at ready until she passed by. "Undertaker, please answer the question. Do you know who or what is responsible for the blank records?"

The mortician removed his glasses and pocketed them with a fluid shrug of his shoulders. "Maaybe I do, and maaybe I don't. You know the price of information, Mr. Spears."

"This is no joking matter," insisted William. "The corruption of these reels is a very serious problem, as I'm sure you must realize. It would be in your best interests to share any information you may have."

"Hmm." Undertaker loosened his hair from the bun, allowing it to spill over his shoulders and down his back in a cascade of glossy silver strands. "Would it, now?"

William's eyes followed the flow of hair briefly, before coming to rest on the ancient's rather remarkable face. He'd always harbored a secret fascination for this reaper, but it was a sort of distant adulation—like the sort mortals had for angels, or a beautiful piece of art. To him, Undertaker was like a stunning winter landscape...breathtaking to behold but not advisable to explore. The fact that he was hopping mad helped to keep that fascination in perspective, too.

"If these anomalies are meddling with the balance of life and death, then you stand to be effected by it as well," William pointed out. "I am curious as to why you've taken to creating your dolls again, as well. I thought you had come to realize it was folly."

"Oh, I did," answered the mortician with a nod. "But that was before this fracas began, y' see. Now they have a purpose, again."

Suddenly, Undertaker was no longer by his table, but looming over William. Startled, the brunet lifted his scythe defensively—but the ancient wasn't making any aggressive moves except to grin at him.

"I've learned how to manipulate those empty records," whispered Undertaker, "and put them to use. Isn't that funny? Someone's goin' around erasing them, and they just happen t' make the perfect, blank slates for my new dollies. Gives me the chance to decide what the dolls know and what they don't, rather than leaving their old memories to cloud up their directives. Isn't that lovely?"

"Frankly, no," answered William. "To what purpose do you make use of them, this way?"

The mortician backed off a bit, glancing sidelong at Ronald. "Put that shanker away, boy. I'd hate to have to toss you through a wall like your mentor."

"Put the doll away." he countered, "I didn't have fun playing with them back then, and I don't like being so near one, now. We aren't here to fight you. We just have business to attend to."

"I can't just _'put her away'_ ," scoffed Undertaker, spreading his hands. "Doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. She's not the sort of doll you can just plop on the shelf, you know."

"Then put her to rest," suggested William. "My companion and I find her presence disturbing, to say the least. I would prefer we discuss things in a civil manner and reach some sort of accord."

"Mm, so you blokes aren't planning t' try and take me in? Not even after I injured your companions?" The mortician tapped his grinning teeth with a fingernail.

"For the time being, no," answered William calmly. "Considering you have managed to best not only Dispatch agents, but a demon as well in the past, it would be fool-hearty for the two of us to attempt an arrest on our own. I am not so proud as to be unaware of my own limitations, sir."

"My, my, aren't we humble." Undertaker glanced at his doll, and he shrugged. "You've piqued my interest. Anna, my dear, lie back down on the table and go back to sleep. I'll wake you when it's time, love."

The doll shuffled over to the table obediently. "Good...n-night," she said, and she offered her creator a twitchy, adoring smile before climbing on and lying down.

William swallowed, finding the whole thing frankly horrifying. He stared at the doll to be sure she was utterly still, before returning his attention to the Undertaker. He nodded at the doll. "You mentioned that you had found a way to use the empty records you have found to create improved dolls. Is she one of them?"

The ancient shook his head. "Not at all. Her records were intact at the time of her death." He glanced around and leaned closer to the two agents, lowering his voice to a whisper. "They don't like the 'undesirables', y' see."

William exchanged a confused look with Ronald. "' _Undesirables'_?"

"Is that what you call the blanks? Or—the Germans?" Ronald asked, remembering hearing the reaper mention to the doll that she'd be able to bite into those responsible for her death. "Why are you here? You don't seem to want to be working for the Nazi party...so why are you appearing to do so?"

"'Undesirables' is _their_ word for Jews and th' like," explained the mortician. "The Nazi party, that is. Gypsies, Catholics, homosexuals and whoever else they decide to cull before this is all finished."

He sobered a bit. "Haven't you lot found it a bit peculiar that nearly all the blank records turning up have come from Nazi soldiers and their supporters?" He shrugged. "Every once in a while, you might find 'em in the body of one of the allies fighting against the axis, or one of the culling victims, but for the most part, they go after members of the Axis. As for what I'm doing here, well..."

He started to cackle. "The Nazi party thinks I'm working for 'em, just like the Aurora Society had that notion at one time; but they're wroo-ong. I've got another goal in mind."

William found this influx of information somewhat dizzying. "What has been wiping out the records of those victims, Undertaker, and what is this goal you speak of?"

"Hmm, I don't think you've earned that information, Mr. Spears. I can be a kind bloke and give you a bit of a hint, though. They were created by the Nazi's themselves—or rather, someone claiming t' be a supporter. Now the monsters they created have turned on 'em, and so they seek immortality 'cause they can't fight 'em on their mortal lonesome."

Ronald stared at the elder reaper, "What do we have to do to make you speak English?" he asked, having not understood what the 'clue' was supposed to hint at.

"Yes, do please elaborate," sighed William.

The mortician's grin stretched wide. "I'm afraid that's all I've got for you gents. You're not a pair of halfwits...you'll figure it out. Unfortunately, seein' as I can't have either of you reporting my whereabouts to Dispatch, I'm afraid I'll have to make a change of location."

He stepped back, and he summoned his scythe, grabbing hold of his newest doll's wrist with one hand. "Might want t' keep your distance, blokes. I've got a habit of making portals only fit for those invited through 'em. You could wind up in pieces, if you try t' go through."

William impulsively started forward as the mortician created a twisting, dark tear through the fabric of time and space. It wasn't the usual portal, and he found out just how true Undertaker's words were when he stuck a hand through it and felt the searing pain of the skin being flayed from the bone. With a cry he fell back against Ronald, and the Undertaker vanished through the portal with his doll as William collapsed.

Ronald grabbed William, hugging him tight as he watched the man and his doll disappear. "Well, that was _way_ uncalled for. We were still talking! What kinda hell-portal was that, anyway? You okay, Will? You kind of cried out, did he kick you or something?"

William held up his shaking, injured hand. The material of his glove had partially fused with what remained of his skin on it. He could see the tendons and bones through the shredded parts of the glove.

"I think...this needs medical attention," he managed, lips going white with pain.

"Wha--oh--shit! Will!" Ronald gasped, seeing the man's hand, "What--hold on a second!"

He got up and hurried over to the cabinets, searching them and finding sanitary wraps and bandages. He then hurried back to will and gently took his hand to wrap it. "We can at least keep it clean until we get to the portal. No telling what may get in our way on our way back," he explained when William gave him a questioning look. He wasn't a medical reaper after all, and he knew little when it came to those things. He _did_ know that keeping injuries clean was on the list of things to do if possible.

William hissed as his hand was wrapped, sucking in sharp breaths to manage the pain. "It was...foolish of me," he admitted. "I reacted...without thinking. Probably should have heeded his warning, but...ahhh, bloody hell!"

His thoughts scattered as the searing pain tore through him.

"Sorry, I'm trying to be gentle...but it's better than getting dirt in it before we get you to the infirmary to have someone look at it and see what they can do." Ronald frowned, actively trying to finish the job more gently. He sighed and offered him a smile. "Just goes to show that everyone can make mistakes. I step on mines, you touch unnatural looking portals."

For some reason, Ronald's observation struck him as funny. Perhaps it was shock settling in from the pain, but William laughed unevenly. "Can we not...go a single day...without injury?"

He clenched his jaw against the discomfort as Ronald finished up, taking a steadying breath. "Thank you, Knox. I feel terribly foolish."

To the mad ancient's credit, Undertaker _did_ try to warn him against coming into contact with the portal. It wasn't that William disbelieved him; he just reacted out of impulse, without thinking. He honestly couldn't hold it against the mortician...but now they would have to track him down again to get more answers. He tried to think on all the man had said before teleporting away, but he was hurting too much right now to concentrate.

"Let us make our way to the portal," he said when Ronald finished bandaging his hand. "I can feel demonic activity rising, and I am not in any condition to fight off predators."

"Don't worry, I'll protect ya." Ronald smiled, indulging himself as he kissed the man's cheek before pulling him to his feet. "Let's go."  
  
The blond took the lead, but he made sure to stay close to the brunet as they hurried down the halls and out of the building. They no longer had to be secretive because of the man who turned out to be the Undertaker, and they left through the doors rather than struggle with the window again.  
  
"I think we should go around the perimeter. It'd take more time, but we'd be less likely to run into demon problems," he suggested, pointing off to the left.

"That seems like a sound plan to me," agreed William, enjoying leaning against Ronald perhaps a bit too much. "Lead on, Knox."

"Here's to hoping my plan doesn't back-fire on us," Ron said, starting them off on their way back to the portal. Luckily, his plan was a successful one and they made it to the portal without a single demon getting in the way. Once they were on the other side, Ronald turned them towards the hospital and hurried William through the doors where they got the attention of a passing nurse who saw William into a room to get his hand tended to.  
  
Ronald wasn't permitted to go back with him, so he shrugged, "I'm going to hunt down Grell-senpai's room." he told Will as hey separated, "See how he's holding up."

"That would be fine," gasped William, struggling against pain as the nurse guided him into the room and began to unwrap Ronald's binding to inspect his hand. "Share what we've learned with him, please. Dispatch must be notified that the Undertaker is making his dolls again."

Fighting back pain, he clenched his teeth as the blond left to seek out Grell. Fortunately, he was not left waiting for very long. There seemed to be an abundance of hospital staff at this place, unlike Dispatch agents. The doctor came in speaking halting English.

"Ah, Mister...Spears? I see 'hand injury' in report." He adjusted his little round glasses. "How did the hand get injured?"

" _Sprechen Sie Deutsch?_ " William gritted out in a strained voice.

The doctor smiled, seeming somewhat relieved. " _Ja, ich spreche Deutsch._ "

William explained to him what happened in German—to the best of his ability. He still wasn't quite sure what vile properties the portal had to flay skin from muscle and bone, and frankly, he did not care. It was enough that his hand had been skinned, and right now, all he wanted was relief from the agony.

"How curious," said the doctor in German. "Well, let's get this cleaned and see what we can do to ease your pain and help it heal, yes?"

William nodded, swallowing and shutting his eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

 

Ronald returned after the doctor finished salving William's hand and administering both a numbing anesthetic and a pain killer, for when it wore off. The brunet was lying in the bed, feeling a bit detached due to the medication he'd been given. He raised his newly bandaged hand weakly in greeting.

 "Did you notify Dispatch?" His voice sounded strangely lazy to his own ears, and he was having trouble focusing his gaze on the blond.

"The best I could," Ronald sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he approached and pulled a chair over next to the bed to sit in. "It was hard to do so without you there to translate. I filled out the report in both English and Italian as well, so hopefully it'll get translated for them soon. Ah! And I spoke with Grell. Told him what we found out and saw how he is doing. The old geezer knocked him around pretty good. But He'll be fine. It didn't take long before he was whining over the lack of a visit from his 'darling cold-hearted Willy'."

Ronald snickered. "He demanded I tell you to, and I quote, 'Get your hard-ass over to see him right away.' But I told him you had your hands wrapped up at the moment."

William sighed in annoyance. "How is it Sutcliff can perturb me even when under the influence of medication?"

He closed his eyes, finding them too heavy to keep open any longer. "Knox, as soon as I've healed, I intend to make tracking the Undertaker down our top priority. I believe the board will find that agreeable, considering he alleged to have information about who or what is responsible for the blank records."

"Yeah... but hopefully we'll have the good fortune of the old loon _not_ start a fight or use more dangerous portals to run away." Ron took hold of Will's uninjured hand and brought it up to his lips. "We don't really stand a chance against him. I learned that back when he bested me, Grell, and that demon butler all at the same time."

"True, but he doesn't seem to be quite our enemy. Certainly not our ally, but he honestly could have put us both in the hospital without my foolish move causing me harm. Even if we cannot persuade him to assist us, I've a feeling that he'll lead us to the more pressing culprit if we follow him. Do you recall what he said about the Nazi party 'seeking immortality' and believing he is their ally? I think that they have been willingly allowing him to raise their dead, in the hopes of using them as a weapon against whatever monsters they created. Even if that isn't the case, an army of the dead would be a potent weapon in this war."

William sighed and forced his eyes open again, unable to see more of his companion than a blurred profile with blond-black hair. "Undertaker may intend to use those dolls against whomever or whatever was responsible for the creation of the 'monsters' he mentioned. Of course, he may also intend to attack Dispatch with them. It's difficult to say, with his logic. I'd like to believe the latter is not the case, since he chose to flee rather than fight us."

"But he attacked Grell," Ron pointed out, "Though Grell could have attacked first. He wouldn't talk about that when I asked why the kook attacked."  
  
The blond reached forward and pushed a lock of hair out of Will's face, tucking it behind the man's ear. "Maybe he intends to set the dolls loose on that Hitler guy. Help put an end to the war. I wouldn't mind that."

"Given that he did not attack us when he most certainly could have, I presume Sutcliff or Jeffries made the first move," reasoned William, fighting a yawn. "While Jeffries' talents in certain areas are impressive, he's a bit jumpy…and we both know how impulsive your former mentor can be."

He started to drift off, and he caught himself. Ron's light touch felt nice, and it lulled him. "Try to get some rest, Knox. You may not have the opportunity to sleep in for some time, once I've recovered."

"...I'd rather not go back to the hotel room alone," Ronald muttered, kissing Will's fingers. "Mind if I stay here with you, tonight?"

William smiled, the medication relaxing his normally conservative nature. "Of course, though the chair isn't…likely to be comfortable. Perhaps you can fit…in the bed with me."

He yawned again, fighting to stay awake.

"That's the theory I planned to test when you said I could stay." Ronald smiled, kicking out of his shoes and removing his uniform jacket before slipping into the bed with the man, making sure to stay on the opposite side his injury was on so that he wouldn't roll onto his hand in the night by accident.

"Mm, seems to be a sound theory," sighed William as Ronald snuggled up to him and rested an arm over his chest. He absently caressed it with his uninjured hand, finding some wonder in the simple act of snuggling. "I've never…done this before."

"I'm sure that's not true," Ronald muttered. "I'm sure you've at least cuddled with your parents when you were a tiny little ball of energy and cute."

"Only…mother," answered William with a sleepy sigh. He nuzzled Ronald's soft, feathered hair. "And father soon disallowed it, fearing it would make me soft."

"Bah, idiot. I snuggled with my mummy until I was twelve, and I aint 'soft'. Sounds like the man could have used cuddles himself, if he was that much a hard-ass dickwad that he wouldn't let his baby boy curl up in his mummy's lap."

"Mm, Father was a 'dickwad'," confirmed William drowsily. I have no…goodness….what is the term? Argument. I've no…no argument…"

He yawned again, and his mind started conjuring random, odd things in its sleepy haze. "Tell th' turtle to get off that hamster's back," he mumbled.

"...I do not understand this new form of English you are speaking." Ronald blinked up at William with a smirk.

"Th' turtle," William muttered more vehemently. "It's crushing the hamster, over there. Hamsters aren't…made for being ridden. Knox, make the…turtle get off."

"...M-hmm... Tell me, on a scale of one to 'fucked up', how drugged are you for the pain?"

The brunet turned his head on the pillow, the fingers of his uninjured hand absently stroking Ron's arm. "…believe I'm well on…the way to 'fucked up', Mister Knox."

Ron nodded and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheekbone, just under his eye. "Then go ahead and sleep it off before you say something you'll regret when the pain killers are no longer messing with your head."

"You are…most kind," mumbled William with a stupefied grin. He drifted off to sleep shortly after.

* * *

-To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

The next morning, Ronald surprised himself by being the first one to wake. Normally William would shake him awake, but he opened his eyes to the sound of someone moving around-who was not the man he had entangled himself with. A nurse who had come to change William's bandages and check on his healing process was speaking.

Of course she was speaking German, so the blond was unable to understand her as he stared dumbly up at her. Groaning, he stretched and reached over for his glasses, pushing them onto his face. "I don't understand German," he muttered, then repeated himself in Italian, just in case she understood either language.

She frowned and spoke in German again, motioning at him, William, and the bed.

"'M not gonna get in your way," he nodded at the bandages and salve in her hand. "Do your job, I'm not going to stop ya," he mumbled, laying back down and resting his cheek on William's shoulder.

The nurse spoke again, tapping him on the shoulder "Go, up." she said in attempted English, pointing to the door, "No see."

William woke up from the disturbance, and he spoke to the nurse in German. "Let my partner stay, please. He was there when it happened and he is responsible for bringing me here safely."

To Ronald, he said: "You'll need to get off the bed so that she may see to me, Knox. Just go and relax in the chair until she finishes."

Ronald groaned. "Bed's warm and comfy..." he muttered, but he obeyed, sliding out of the bed and shuffling over to the chair in the corner of the room.

The nurse huffed in displeasure but said nothing as she set about her task.

William cooperated with her, watching with interest as she unwrapped his hand to examine it and apply more medication. Most of the skin had grown back overnight as he slept, but it was tender scar tissue, right now. It might take a couple more days for it to finish healing and toughen up. He was again thankful for his reaper fortitude. Were he a human being, he would still be in agony and it would have taken weeks for the skin to grow back. He gingerly flexed his fingers into a weak fist when asked, grimacing as the new skin stretched in protest. She nodded and applied more ointment, before dressing the hand with fresh wrappings.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," he protested when she retrieved a syringe from the supply tray and started filling it with medication. "I feel much better."

"It will not fully heal without rest," she insisted, but she set the needle aside. "First you eat, though. You need to keep up your strength, ja? Reapers need fuel to keep the body strong."

She rolled the tray back to the wall. "I will return to administer the shot after they've fed you. No arguments!"

William sighed. German hospital staff was much pushier than British, he'd learned. "Fine. Please have them bring a meal for my companion, as well."

She glanced at Ronald and shrugged, before leaving them alone in the room again. William turned his head to look at the blond, and he managed a dry smirk. "Charming, wasn't she? I would invite you back into the bed with me, but I fear she may come at us with a rolling pin if she catches us lying together again before she can dose me up. You may join me again after breakfast and my shot, if you like."

"I'll be too awake by then," Ron pouted. "She sure was grumpy, though. Acting like I was doing something wrong by sleeping next to my injured boyfriend! Maybe she was jealous of me." He smirked.

"I doubt she realized the nature of our relationship," excused William. "It's more likely that she is overworked; as all hospital staff seem to be, these days. I can certainly relate."

One of said staff came in with two dinner trays and set them down on the rolling bed table without a word. He left then, leaving it a mystery as to what they were being served. At least two glasses of water had been included.

"Well then, shall we unwrap the mystery meal?" suggested William, using his uninjured hand to turn the table and position it over his bed. He adjusted the bed so that the upper part was elevated, and he lifted the lid off of his. A sausage, a roll, and of course, scalloped potatoes were revealed as their lunch.

"I missed this fare when we first arrived in Germany," he muttered, "but I fear I may soon develop scurvy, if I don't get some variety."

"Let me guess-potatoes?" Ronald asked, pushing himself up and walking over to sit on the bed between Will's legs on the other side of the table, so that they could both eat in a relatively comfortable position. He looked at the meals they had been given and groaned. "Do these people ever eat anything else?" he asked, picking up a fork and knife before digging into his meal. "First thing when we get back home-complete diet change. Nothing potato-y."

"For once, your usual staple of pizza, beer and burgers sounds quite appealing to me," said William in a subtly teasing tone. Still, it was food. He cut up his sausage and he spooned up some potato on his fork, before adding a slice of the meat to it.

"Sounds like a date to me!" Ron grinned, shoving a mix of food into his mouth and chewing it. "Seein' as w' can'—" he swallowed, "—really go on a proper date now, and working the field together is kinda a lousy date, anyway."

"Mm, I must agree," mumbled William after swallowing a bite. He dabbed at his lips with his napkin, his manners impeccable despite the setting. "I initially intended for our first date to include something elegant…classy. However, the more time we spend in this conflict, the less interested I am in such a rigid setting."

He smirked ruefully, surprised by his own thoughts. "It seems so unlikely that I would prefer to a more simple setting. I can hardly tell whether it's you rubbing off on me, or being so world-weary that I've grown tired of constantly maintaining this strict code of rigidity."

"Well, I hope I don't rub off on ya too much. I'd rather not date myself," Ronald joked, "and I wouldn't mind a fancier date once in a while."

"Most definitely," agreed William. "Rest assured, we will have outings of that nature…but honestly, the first thing I'd like to do upon returning home is to try and relax. I may require your assistance learning how to do that, however."

"Easy-I got you to relax at the sauna, didn't I? At least 'till some jerk stole your towel." The blond grinned and leaned over the table to plant a kiss on Will's nose when he leaned forward to gather more potato on his fork.

William gave a little start, unused to such easy, chaste displays of affection. He felt a flush rising in his cheeks and he scoffed at himself inwardly.

_~Oh, honestly. After some of the things I've done with others, how can a peck on the nose possibly make me blush?~_

But he couldn't stop it, so he made a show of dabbing his face with the napkin to wipe away imaginary crumbs. "Then I suppose I can trust you to help me again, when this is all over. I wonder what I could give you in return, though."

"Well, I wouldn't mind being paid in kisses~" Ronald teased cheerfully, "I also accept hugs or midnight cuddles in bed."

William tried to picture himself doing such things. "I…may need some tutelage on that, as well," he admitted. It _sounded_ easy enough, but he was at a loss for when to give hugs, and he tended to consider such things inappropriate in public. The "midnight cuddles", as Ronald put it, he could manage. Learning when it was all right to hug and to be hugged, however…he was unused to either of these simple, loving actions.

"I have foggy memories of my mother hugging me," he tried to explain. "Always when Father wasn't around to see it. It may take time for me to learn how to…exchange affection simply for the sake of doing so."

"Just...let your emotions for me out." Ronald suggested, "I may be a social butterfly, but I know you aren't. I'm fine with affectionate actions staying private. We'll go at your pace. Mine is faster because I have dated before. I've never been held back like you have, and it would be unfair of me to push you. Just know-you can kiss me when you have the urge to. Same with hugs or holding hands."

William looked down at Ronald's hands, and he hesitantly reached out to take them in his. The grip of his injured hand was weak, but it was the intent behind it that mattered most. "I shall do my best, Mr. Knox."

"You can call me 'Ron' or something more casual off the clock, you know." He chuckled. "Save the formalities for working hours."

Having not even realized the lapse, William found himself chuckling as well. "Ah, old habits, I'm afraid. I imagine normal people don't go around calling their lover's by their surnames. Then again, I have never indulged myself in any sort of committed relationship, before."

He looked at the blond and he cracked a smile. "I really am a stiff sort, aren't I?"

"It's okay. You're still quite handsome, and you re willing to try for me. That is totally more meaningful to me than you know." The blond smiled.

William relaxed a little. It was a new experience, to be humble. "I daresay I am a work in progress. I hope you don't find that a discouragement."

"If I did, why the hell would I have wanted this with you?" Ron pointed out. "It may make me frustrated sometimes, but I'm sure things about me make you frustrated, too. Plus, Once upon a time, I was just as much as a serious relationship virgin as you."

He paused and thought back. "Or...maybe just a dating virgin, I should say."

William nearly chuckled at the comparison. He briefly realized that Ronald was figuratively "popping his cherry" in regards to the subject, and that gave him another surge of amusement that made him twitch. He clenched his injured hand too hard and he gasped with pain, abruptly sobered.

"That's…very unpleasant," he grunted, shutting his eyes. He took a slow breath, trying to manage the discomfort.

"Then be careful!" Ron insisted, looking at the wrapped hand. "Honestly, Mister Spears, you must learn to take care of yourself!" he joked in a mock-tone of Will's business voice, then he smiled. "Or I'll start worrying about you."

"I shall try to keep that in mind," gritted William, waiting for the pain to ease. Once it did, he picked up his fork and knife again to resume eating. "I'll be counting on you to stay sharp as always, Ronald. I intend to put in the request that our mission statement be revised so that we may further investigate the matter of the missing records. We'll have to be even more careful than before, should the board approve my request."

"Well alright, but if that old geezer kicks our ass to France and back, I'm blaming you!" Ron grinned. "But, if ya want, I can help fill it out for you here and then go turn it in today. Saves time while we wait for you to heal that hand up. And the medical staff here seems less open to the idea of visitors sticking around too long."

William nodded, and he swallowed his food before answering. "That would be fine. I'm afraid my penmanship will leave something to be desired, until my hand finishes healing and the strength and coordination return to it."

He had little trouble eating with his left hand, but writing with it was another matter. "In my briefcase at our hotel room is a folder full of blank management forms," he explained between bites. "If you would be so kind as to retrieve it and bring it here after we eat, we can begin on that and get it out of the way."

"Sure. Gives me a chance to shower, too. So I can come back and not smell like sweat and battlefields. Want me to grab anything else while I'm out?" The blond offered, scooping more food onto his fork and shoveling it into his mouth, "Fresh clothes, something to eat, or anything outta your bag?"

"A set of fresh clothes and underwear would be wonderful. I believe I have one clean uniform left." William looked down at his current uniform with a grimace. They hadn't changed him into a hospital gown because of the condition he'd been in, but it was just as well. Another day of rest and healing would restore his hand enough for him to take care of his own basic needs again and have a shower.

"I may need to order yet another uniform. We seem to go through them rather quickly."

"Totally not our fault! This is war." Ron smirked. "Okay, I'll grab you fresh clothes, then. I'll request a new uniform for you when I submit your report for ya, and... yeah, all that official jazz."

He shoveled in the last bite of his breakfast and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before standing up and stretching. Spotting where his shoes had been kicked off to, he grabbed them to put on. "I'll have my phone with me. Call me if you think of anything else for me to do or grab before I get back here to help with paperwork."

William nodded and watched him go. He finished his meal and pushed his tray aside before getting up to use the bathroom. The nurse was back when he finished, and he groaned inwardly. She obviously intended to medicate him again.

"I know that I need my rest," he said as diplomatically as possible, "but my companion and I have important things to take care of, Miss. If you could just wait until he returns with my things and we've had the chance to fill out the necessary paperwork, I'll gladly submit to the medication."

She huffed slightly. "Stubborn men. I will give you thirty minutes to complete whatever forms you want to fill out, once he returns. After that, I'll bring orderlies with me, if I must."

William sighed and nodded, climbing back into his bed. His hand was throbbing, but it wasn't so intense anymore as to be distracting. He honestly couldn't recall ever having suffered so many injuries in such a short time. The nurse left him, and he tried to relax as he waited for Knox to come back.

* * *

Ronald ran back to the hotel and first thing; he hopped into the shower. He rather enjoyed feeling clean; no longer having the grime of the war clinging to his skin. But he didn't dawdle and waste time. Once he was done he dried off and dressed himself before gathering everything he needed to grab for William. Finding the man's underwear, however, gave him a moment of pause as he held up the simple yet practical pair of white and blue pin-striped boxers. He flushed, trying to imagine the man in them-and only them. The man was just so modest with particular things. pants...fine. Towel...fine, but walking around in his underpants? Seemed the man refused to do so. It was a shame. Ron would enjoy the show.

He shook his head of the thoughts and shoved them in the bag with everything else he was collecting. Then he left again, heading back to the hospital and pausing again to stop in a little cafe on the way. Luckily, one of the customers in line behind him knew a little English and helped him place his order for two coffees and a few cinnamon-powdered doughnuts.

Finally arriving back at William's room, arms loaded with a bag, coffee, and a suit bag, he grinned. "Brought you coffee and a snack to share!" he announced, setting the coffee and treat down on the table before moving to set everything else down in a chair and hang the suit bag on the peg on the wall.

William sniffed the coffee appreciatively before taking a cautious sip. It was still quite hot, and it had an undertone of hazelnut in it. "Mm, thank you." He opened the bag to see what sort of treat was in it, and he smirked at the large, cinnamon pastry as he pulled it out and unwrapped it.

"You managed to find something without potato in it. Well done."

"I know, it's a miracle!" Ronald laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his legs up to cross in front of him Indian-style. "I hope your coffee tastes alright. Had someone in line with me help translate the order. He wasn't perfect at English so I don't know how well the orders went coffee wise." He grinned and pulled the rolling bed table over to set out the paperwork they needed to fill out. "I definitely prefer having you to help with the German talking."

"At this point, I daresay we cannot be terribly choosey," remarked Will as he tore the pastry in half and offered part of it to his companion. "Well then, let's get started on this whilst we eat. The sooner we get this paperwork turned in, the sooner we can get back on the Undertaker's trail after I have been released from this facility."

Ronald nodded and took a sip of his own coffee before taking out a pen, "All right, let's get this boring thing over with. Date...Already know that one..." he muttered filling in the day's date on the form.

William waited until Ronald finished filling out the basics, and then he walked the younger man through the wording on the parts requiring an explanation for the request. It took a while, and they finished their pastry and coffee by the time it was completed. Once he painstakingly signed his name at the bottom above Ronald's, William sighed and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes.

"Tomorrow," he murmured. "The moment they give sanction. My hand is much better. I should regain full use of it by then, and if we succeed in solving this mystery, Ronald, you will most certainly gain that promotion you've been after."

"Only thing better than a promotion would be getting to take my boyfriend out to celebrate said promotion." Ronald hinted with a wink as he slipped the paperwork into a manila folder to be handed in, "My treat-and, maybe more of a fancy date with fancy dancing. -Not that I'm getting ahead of myself or anything."

William opened his eyes to look at him, and he admired Ronald's youthful, attractive profile. "I would never have imagined you to be the sort to enjoy such a date, but I'll be happy to accommodate your wish."

Before he even realized what he was doing, William sat up and cupped the back of Ronald's head to kiss him on the lips. He supposed he should have known better, given how quickly a simple kiss exchanged with the younger man tended to wear down his self-control. He stroked Ronald's tongue with his and he forgot all about the lingering ache in his hand. He allowed it to go on until his mind began to conjure some rather vivid images of himself doing all manner of scandalous things to the blond, and then he decided enough was enough.

Pulling away, he stared into Ronald's eyes and spoke in a breathless voice. "A dance is but one of many things I look forward to sharing with you, when this is over."

The blond's cheeks were cherry red as he blinked at the man who'd just kissed him. "I-" he cleared his throat and tried to calm his racing heart, "Casual dates aren't reason enough for something fancier...but we aren't just casual, we're serious. Any type of date would be fun with you, Will. And...any type of dance... even horizontal ones..." he flushed again, regaining the color that had started to fade from his cheeks.

The older reaper smiled slightly. The kiss had pushed his thoughts into the same direction, so he couldn't rightly blame Ronald. "I look forward to that particular dance, as well," he assured him. But priorities were priorities, and right now they had a case to investigate and possibly a new fugitive to track down.

William lay back again and he sighed. "You should look around while I'm still hospitalized," he decided. "You may find some interesting things around town, before we move on to locate the Undertaker again."

"What do you mean?" Ronald frowned, "You mean...for the investigation out in the war-torn mortal realm, or here in our realm?"

William shook his head, eyes still closed. "No, I meant our side…and not for investigative purposes. Spend a bit of leisure time…see some sights and shop, if you like. I for one have no plans to return to this place, once all is said and done. Perhaps years down the line, when the memories of what we've witnessed in this part of the world have faded to a more bearable level."

"That's what I thought...but I was surprised to hear you suggest it." Ronald confirmed, "I guess a part of me still expects you to be all boss while we are here on assignment. I'll turn in this paperwork first, but I think that should be fun and slightly frustrating." he grinned.

William shrugged slightly. "Good work should be rewarded, Knox. I think you've earned a bit of sight-seeing, before we must get on the road again. Enjoy this respite while you can."

He opened his eyes to look at Ronald again. "If you should happen to come across a cuckoo clock, let me know. I've rather wanted an authentic German one for years. Mother used to have one."

"...Isn't that one of those clocks that has the annoying little bird that pops out every hour or whatever?" Ronald asked, "I've never actually seen one before, but I heard about them."

"Some have birds, others have figurines of people or even skeletons. You can customize them to choose what hour they come out." William sighed again as he thought of the one his mother used to have. He wasn't even sure why he wanted one for himself, given some of the painful memories of childhood. There was one constant good, though, and that was his mother.

"I doubt I will find one exactly like hers, but it would be…nice…to own one myself."

"I'll look around some clock shops, then." Ronald nodded, standing up and leaning over to kiss his cheek, "Mind if I stop by a pub for a few drinks tonight?"

"Drinks are included in leisure time," agreed William, a bit surprised that Ronald would ask permission for such a thing. He seemed to really be trying to step up and be responsible—another sign of how he'd grown. "Please, feel free to enjoy yourself; but do practice some moderation, Ronald. I would rather not leave tomorrow with you suffering a hangover."

"Then-before I leave I need you to teach me how to order a scotch and tell people that I have a boyfriend." Ron grinned, "Just in case someone seems to be interested. I don't want to be stuck with them not understanding 'no'...oh! isn't the German word for 'no' like...'nine' or something?"

William nodded, barely suppressing a soft chuckle. "Indeed. Should anyone approach you sexually, say: ' _Nein danke, Ich bin getroffen_ '. To ask for a scotch, you say: ' _Ich bin haben Scotch'_."

"...Nine donkey, itch bin gitroffing?" Ronald tried, cringing as he knew it didn't sound right at all. "I failed that, didn't I?"

William coughed into his hand. "As beginning tries go, I suppose that was better than some." He couldn't quite hide his subtle smile as he repeated it for Ronald again. "Try to be a tad more guttural with your inflections. Also, try to remember to say _'danke'_ after receiving a drink or food. It means 'thank you'."

Ronald sighed and sat back down, "Okay, give me some lessons on the phrases before I go and you get a fresh dose of drugs from the grumpy nurse."

William closed his eyes again and recited a few key phrases for his companion, repeating them and making Ronald do the same, until he was sure that he could speak them clearly enough to be comprehended. He fell asleep again by the time he finished, exhausted once more. He mumbled an apology to Ronald, not even consciously aware of it.

Ronald smiled and leaned over to kiss his lips, "You just rest and heal up, sleeping beauty," he teased the exhausted reaper. "I'll see you again later." He kissed him one last time before he stood up and left, nodding at the nurse who shot a glare at him as he left.

"Man, normally the ladies love me..."

* * *

It might have interested William to know that the object of his search plans was deliberately laying out a clear trail for him and Ronald to follow. The retired ancient knew what he was going up against, and while he was confident it wasn't anything he couldn't handle with the right strategy and tools, he hadn't survived so long by doing anything in halves. A little help from Dispatch might prove to be useful, even if the agents he'd run into only served as meat shields.

"My, my, that would be a shame, though," he mused as he worked over his next dollie. "Pity I had to knock Miss Sutcliff and her young companion down a peg or two, as well."

He thought of the redhead in question. "Hmm, yes. Such a shame to mark up that pretty face again. Ah well…Sutcliff seems to enjoy a spot of violence, now and again. I think she'll get over it, don't you?"

He looked down at his subject, and he remembered that he wasn't finished with him yet when the body didn't move. "You're a terrible conversationalist," he accused.

He began to whistle a little tune as he reached for another instrument to resume his work on the cadaver. As abhorrent as Dispatch found some of the things he'd done, it was all small potatoes compared to what his quarry was doing. There were worse things than demons and zombies in the world.

* * *

The next morning Ronald shuffled into William's hospital room, suffering a slight hangover, "...'morning..." he groaned, flopping over the foot of the bed atop William's feet. "Found you a shop that has the bird clocks... I think someone spiked my scotch with something stronger last night..."

William was just sitting up to collect his clothing and change into them. He eyed Ronald dubiously, and his thoughts started going to a dark place. "Is that a metaphor for you overdrinking, or do you truly believe someone slipped something into your drink?"

Seeing as he rarely frequented clubs or bars himself, William had no personal experience with the matter…but he had heard of instances where someone drugged a victim to have his or her way with them whilst they were unconscious. If such a thing happened to Knox, he would find the responsible party and make them wish they had never laid eyes on him. His own protective thoughts startled him a bit, and he blinked at the younger man.

"I only had two drinks." Ron moaned, holding up two fingers. "Normally I have at least five... I went back to the hotel when I felt off... woke up this morning on the floor by the bathroom door feeling like I had gotten shit-faced." He turned his head and looked up at William, "Either the drinks in this bloody country are stronger than hell, or I got something extra in one of my drinks..."

William sighed in relief. If someone _had_ intended to take advantage of the attractive young agent, they'd missed their chance. Thank goodness Ronald had the wit to get himself home safely as soon as he started to feel a bit off.

"Well, perhaps we can stop for a Bloody Mary on our way out," suggested William. He'd found the drink to be one of the best cures for a hangover and fatigue, though he was not normally an advocate of "hair of the dog" treatment. He gathered up his clothing and he went into the little adjoining bathroom to change into them. "Or perhaps some breakfast would do you well," he called out as he unfastened his hospital gown and slid his underwear on.

"Why not both?" Ronald muttered, rolling onto his back and looking up at the light fixture above him, "How's your hand feeling? Skin grow back and look normal yet?" He paused before pushing himself up and taking the cup of water sitting on the table that William had probably been drinking before he woke up. He sipped it and lay back down, closing his eyes, deciding not to go do the pub scene like that again while in Germany. Maybe if William came with him to help watch drinks, he'd go, but alone; nope.

William flexed the fingers of his recovered hand. "It appears whole again, and much of the weakness has passed. It may take a week or more to recover full strength, but my coordination is back and it will do."

He pulled his pants on and buckled his belt. "A drink and a light meal will be fine for both of us, I think. We shall see what we can find, once we leave here. I've seen the inside of this hospital for longer than I care to."

He finished putting on the uniform and he tugged his gloves on, before donning his hat and stepping out of the bathroom. It was odd; the more he wore the outfit, the less it bothered him. He might have even _liked_ it, were it not for what it represented. He had to at least give the SS credit for dressing sharply.

"Well then," he said softly, staring down at the sight of Ronald sprawled on the bed. The young man's eyes were closed, and he was in a rather convenient position for Will to practice a bit of taking advantage of, himself. With a slight smirk, the taller reaper bent over to kiss Ronald on the lips.

Ronald's eyes snapped open, his cheeks heating. He'd expected William to tell him to get up, or at the most, nudge his shoulder or leg. A kiss was the last thing he expected.

But he enjoyed it; smiling into the kiss as he brought his hands up to brush his fingers over William's cheeks. "And sweet kisses to start, I see."

William pulled back a little to stare down at him. "In our situation, I think it's advisable to take our little pleasures where and when we may."

His voice was slightly husky, and he rather lamented his decision not to sleep with Ronald until after they were finished with these missions and home again. With a little sigh of regret, he straightened up again. "Come, let us leave this place and be on our way. I'm more than eager to get out of these walls."

"Help me up." Ronald said, reaching up so that the other reaper could take his hand and pull him to his feet. Once he was up-right, he took a moment to straighten his uniform before nodding, "Breakfast time...hopefully it'll help with the after-effects of last night."

"Absolutely," agreed William. They left his hospital room and made their way through the corridors to the elevators. He couldn't stop glancing at his companion as they boarded the lift and selected the ground floor. The little kisses they'd shared wasn't quite enough. As soon as the doors closed and they began to descend, William decided to give Ronald a more thorough taste of the things he could look forward to, when this was all over.

Reaching up to take off his hat so that it wouldn't collide with Ronald's, William closed in on the blond and trapped him against the support rail, placing his hands on either side of his head. He captured his mouth with his and he kissed him much deeper than before, invading his mouth with his probing tongue. His body pressed flush against Ronald's and he made a low sound of approval in his throat, stroking and thrusting with his tongue as his lips animated against the younger man's.

It was a bit ridiculous, really. He couldn't seem to get enough of him. All the self-control in the world didn't seem to be enough, when it came to Ronald Knox. Perhaps when they finally got the chance to bed one another for the first time, this nagging urgency to touch and kiss him at every available opportunity would lessen a bit.

Ronald gasped in surprise as his boyfriend unexpectedly pinned him to the wall and assaulted his mouth with passion. Normally, he was the one to do the surprising. But William had somehow perfected it. His lips and tongue making Ronald's knees go weak.

He felt as if he'd been dethroned as king of flirting by the one man in their division who never flirted-ever. He was putty in William's hands-and he loved it! A thrill ran through his entire body as an embarrassingly loud, erotic moan escaped into the kiss.

William pressed more firmly up against Ronald, swallowing the muffled sound of his moan. He knew that he should probably stop before someone else got on and caught them in the act, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He caught hold of Ronald's hands and squeezed them, his tongue eagerly dancing against the younger reaper's. Just as he was beginning to contemplate the possibility of stopping the elevator to do more than ravish his companion's mouth, the lift stopped and the doors began to open with a cheerful ding.

William released Ronald's mouth and hands, stepping back from him hastily as the doors opened to admit one of the staff. William put his hat back on and gave the man a nod of greeting, cheeks warming tellingly with mortification. Thankfully, he'd broken the kiss before the hospital aide could see what they were up to. His pulse was still racing and he was still catching his breath. The new occupant pressed the button for the second floor, and the doors closed again. William glanced sidelong at Ronald as the elevator continued its trajectory, and a faint smirk adorned his lips. Ronald looked dazed, his lips kiss-swollen and a bit slack.

Well, at least he'd managed to give the blond something to think about.

Ronald pushed himself away from the wall of the lift and stepped closer to William, panting slightly. Wherever that had come from; he liked it, and he was going to portray that.

He slid his hand over and gave William's rear a firm squeeze. The older reaper barely refrained from jumping in response, glancing back at Ronald with a brief, bare twitch of his lips before facing forward once more to watch the numbers blink on the display. The aid parted ways with them on his floor.

Breathing a sigh of relief that his confinement was over with, William began to walk to the exit, his steps moving a bit faster than usual in his eagerness to leave the hospital.

As soon as he stepped outside, he paused and took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air. Looking across the street, he spotted a promising looking cafe and he nodded at it as his companion joined him. "Let's try there, first. If we find nothing appealing on the menu, there are plenty of other places to try."

Ronald nodded and bumped Will's shoulder with his own as he started towards the cafe, "And here I thought you weren't ready for secret public flirting." He teased, "That was a nice surprise."

"I have my moments of spontaneity too, Mr. Knox." They began to cross the street to the cafe. "And if this experience of this war has taught me anything, it is that even we aren't immune to dying and any given moment could be the last. That realization makes it easier to put aside my conservative nature once in a while and enjoy opportunities when they come."

And he did so thoroughly enjoy each opportunity he'd taken advantage of, when it came to Ronald Knox.

"And I'm glad for that, at least." Ronald grinned, "If anything good comes from this nasty war... personally, at least..." He jogged forward and pulled open the door for William like a gentleman.

William thanked him softly, surprised by the gesture. He might have found it strange, generally associating the act with courtesy for the opposite sex—but then he recalled that he himself had opened doors for work associates of both genders, on more than one occasion. They stepped inside and looked around for a seat, and they chose a booth and sat down to look at the menu. Fortunately, this establishment had English translations beneath the German names and descriptions, so he did not have to translate for Ronald.

"Bangers and mash," William observed with surprise as he looked over the breakfast selection. "It seems the owners of this cafe are used to getting tourists from the isles."

He was, however, thoroughly sick of potatoes. "I think perhaps I shall skip that in favor of bacon and eggs."

"Anything that isn't potatoes and wursts." Ronald agreed, "...Mm, pancakes...Maybe some of those...with a side of eggs...and bacon...and a roll..." he listed off his thoughts to echo his appetite.

"And perhaps a keg of beer to go with all that?" suggested William dryly. "Honestly, I sometimes wonder if you have a hollow leg...but order whatever strikes your fancy. We could perhaps request a to-go container if it turns out to be too much, and you can snack on it later."

"Too early to drink." Ronald shrugged, "I'm getting orange juice. Also," he paused to smirk over his menu, "You haven't seen me pack it away after a night of drinking. I totally got it. And your leftovers if you can't finish."

Shaking his head at Ronald's startling appetite and metabolism, William set his menu down and ordered for them when the server came by. At least there wasn't a worry of any food going to waste, if he found himself unable to finish his meal.

It was a little longer wait for the two reapers, given the size of Ronald's order, but soon their table supported a feast that could feed the average family with grown kids.

Ronald didn't hesitate to grab his fork and knife to begin digging in, tasting each component of his breakfast in turn before grabbing syrup and smothering it.

"This place makes a mean pancake!" he grinned, his cheeks full of food.

William couldn't decide whether to be appalled or amused at Ronald's eating habits...but he'd seen it before, so he chose to keep his admonishment more on the teasing side—which was so unlike him that he wondered if he truly _was_ going mad. "Indeed, and you might enjoy them better if you take the time to taste and chew them."

He cut into one of his eggs and ate a bite with much more grace than his companion.

"Hey, I do taste 'em!" Ron shrugged, "and its better than those tiny mouse bites you take!" He turned the teasing around onto the man across from him before taking a drink of his juice, "Trust me, though, if I don't eat fast we'll be here all morning, and we have work to get back to, and I don't like overtime." He winked before starting to eat again.

"Hmm, fair enough."

William concentrated on his own meal and he tried to ignore the way Ronald scarfed his down. As he ate, he realized that were it another reaper, he would have gotten up and moved to another table in disgust. Somehow he was able to tolerate it from Knox, and he could only assume that it was because of how close they'd grown since starting this mission. The prospect of having sexual relations with him certainly didn't hurt, either. He resisted a grimace when Ronald gave him a puffy-cheeked grin again. As unattractive as he found his juvenile eating habits, he supposed he could just overlook them in favor of the more pleasant qualities that drew him to the younger man.

* * *

-To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

The Undertaker grinned after sending his winged friend out to scout for him. He offered the raven a scrap of meat from the butcher's block that he was using to preparing his meal, and he sent it on its way. The bird flew out the window of the cottage, leaving him alone to finish preparing his dinner. "Nicely handled, if I do say so myself."

Of course, nothing said he really _needed_ reinforcements just yet. He might be able to take care of things all on his lonesome. Centuries of experience—and the scars to mark them—had taught him that it was best to be prepared and _not_ need something than be unprepared and wish he had it. He returned his attention to his cooking, and he whistled off-tune to himself. He'd lain a perfect trail for the two Dispatch agents to follow, and yet he'd done so in a way as to not make it terribly obvious it was deliberate.

"Never hurts to have a pawn or three to toss in the mix," he reasoned aloud. "Pity though...I rather like those chaps."

The sound of screaming from the other room gave him pause, and he rolled his two-toned eyes in exasperation. "If you're going to keep yelling like that," he called out, "I might have to add your tongue to the list of dinner ingredients...so _shut_ it!"

The poor bloke tied up in the parlor kept screaming—either because he couldn't comprehend English or because he was still lamenting the loss of his right ear. Either way, it was grating on the Undertaker's nerves. The ancient reaper stabbed his butcher knife into the chopping block and traipsed over to the kitchen's exit, shaking his shaggy silver bangs aside to glare at his dinner guest.

"I know your hearing's compromised, but how's a body to concentrate on cooking with you making all that noise? Shut your hole before I—"

Whatever threat he'd been about to issue to the captive soldier got rudely interrupted by the wall in his temporary kitchen suddenly exploding. He barely had time to throw his hands up to protect his scar-slashed face before the mortar and stone of the structure went flying like so much strewn rubble. The heat of the fire from said explosion singed his hair and gave him an interesting sensation of being partially baked for a moment...and then the ruckus died down. He could hear the roar of an aircraft passing overhead, and he stepped through the new, gaping hole in the wall to look up at the sky. His nose crinkled and he made a face at the blurry shape of the plane passing over his area.

"Bloody humans and their explosives," he complained. He turned to look back into the kitchen with a lamenting expression on his ghost-white face. His potatoes were all baked now; but not in the way he would have preferred. They were literally all over the place—as were the carrots. "Spoiled my dinner. Ah, bugger."

* * *

"Hya!" Ronald grunted as he finished cutting through a lesser demon who had gotten in their way. He and William got the clear to pursue Undertaker, but they still had their quota of collections to make each day.

William was collecting, and he was standing guard—good thing, too, as a group of demons had shown up looking for an easy meal. But Ronald proved more than a match for the five imps.

"Coast is clear again!" he called over to William as he jogged over to his watch post.

William checked his pocket watch and nodded. "Well done, Knox. We are making record time." He glanced around with a suspicious air at their surroundings. They were currently somewhere near Leipzig, but now he was turned around. He pulled out the GPS and turned it on, narrowing his eyes at the screen. He turned and squinted at their present location, trying to match up the coordinates.

"Just where in the hell _are_ we?" he muttered, perplexed. They'd passed through Leipzig and they were following the trail in a southern direction, but he was disoriented. He didn't see any small towns or villages on the map that aligned with their current location.

"Dude, you would know better than me." Ron shrugged, falling in next to William and looking over his shoulder, "Hey—the map's up-side-down." he turned the map, though that didn't help them discover their location, "...I think..."

William pulled the navigator out of Ronald's grasp, more miffed at himself than at his companion. "How ridiculous. I was raised not far from here. Granted, it was on the reaper side..."

He trailed off in frustration, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. He wondered if they should stop and ask for directions, but the only settlements nearby were practically in ruins. Any remaining residents weren't likely to speak to a pair of SS officers, regardless of citizen affiliation. Civilians wanted nothing more to do with this war.

He thought of his own words about being raised in the reaper dimension here, and he sighed and closed his eyes. "Oh, honestly."

He'd somehow managed to set the navigation data to _their_ realm, rather than the mortal one. Of _course_ the settlements wouldn't match up. Embarrassed by the lapse, he changed the settings back to mortal Earth and he waited for it to re-calculate.

"Wait." Ronald's eyes widened and his lips split into an amused grin, "Did we have that thing set to the wrong realm?! We did!" He laughed, leaning against William, his arm hooked over the man's shoulders, "Man, maybe we need a break from this whole thing. Hospitalized breaks clearly aren't enough to refresh our minds."

William was still mortified by his mistake. "It was a simple error. Now, let's see..." He re-calibrated the device so that it was attuned to the mortal realm again, and he turned in place as he familiarized himself with the landscape. "Yes, this is much better. We should find a settlement two miles this way, where we shall be able to refresh and investigate for further signs that might keep us on the right track. We can't afford to let the trail go cold, Ronald. I would even venture to say that tracking down the Undertaker for some answers has been less hazardous to our health than gathering the records of the dead and dying."

"Less demon problems, at least." Ronald shrugged. He didn't care which job they worked on. He was just ready for the war to end so that they could return home to London. However, there was no end in sight, even when looking at the constantly updating to-die list. "I don't like the fact he's making them stupid dolls again. I hated dealing with them the first time! I'd say if we end up fighting him, I'll take him if you take the dolls...but that'd be stupid. He's way outta my league. He'd wipe the floor with my ass within seconds."

William began to walk in the direction to the next settlement, trusting Ronald to keep pace with him. "Should we end up in a physical confrontation with the Undertaker again, I assure you I've no intention of going without backup. Much as it pains me to say it, I would fair little better than you against that reaper. I doubt there exists a single agent in Dispatch alive today that could match him one-on-one. Our only hope would be to overwhelm him with numbers and pray to Death we could subdue him before he takes down too many of us. However, he had the opportunity to kill Sutcliff and Jeffries, yet he did not take it."

William paused in thought, a frown curving his lips. "Odd. Now that I think of it, this wouldn't be the first time he's bested Dispatch agents and yet did not reap them. One could even argue that my own injury during our last encounter was my own fault. He _did_ warn me not to attempt to follow."

He looked sidelong at his companion. "Some might say I admire the man too much for my own good, Ronald, and yet I wonder; is it that I fail to see him clearly, or is it that my instincts are simply...correct?"

"He's a scary guy. Took on me, Grell, and that demon-Sebas-chan or whatever. Though that stupid demon got in the way more than he helped. But still. Undertaker bested the three of us at once. And as annoying as Grell can be, he's a seriously good field agent. He knows how to fight, and he does a kick-ass job at it. But even he fell to Undertaker." Ronald shrugged as he followed and made a little skipping motion over a large root protruding from the ground.

"Honestly, to me, he's just a crazy old guy who is too strong for my liking. I know he's famous and crap. I know he did amazing work before retirement...but I don't quite get people's fascination and admiration with him—particularly yours since I think you look up to him more than anyone I have ever seen. Hell, at first I thought you were as in love with the man as Grell is in love with the color red and any hot guy he sees. I was a little jealous of him for that..."

The blond shook his head and continued, "But then again, it may be because my generation never got to see his work before he retired. All I have ever seen of him is his crazy retired self, slinking around dead bodies. He's not really the same guy, ya know? I mean, no way would a working reaper be that giggly and uncontrollable. But he has the same experience and talents of the guy in our history books. It makes him dangerous. But...he, at least I hope, still has a respect for dispatch agents...maybe that is why he hasn't killed any of us when we all know he easily could do so. He ran away instead of taking you and I out. And no one would be the wiser."

William nodded, and then he resumed walking. "Ronald, though his methods seem completely mad to us, I honestly don't believe he is an enemy to Dispatch...yet. It seems each time we've had an unpleasant encounter with him; it has been because we have 'gotten in his way'. Of what I still have no idea, but there are undeniable assets to having such a reaper on our side, with everything that has been happening. I intend to approach this matter with diplomacy. Failing that, at least we've discerned that he may know who or what is truly behind this recent string of oddities. Even if he cannot be won to our side, he does seem to have leads that we lack...and we could use that to our advantage."

"So you think it's not really him making the records go blank?" Ron asked, still having his doubts about it. Undertaker was the only one he knew of who knew how to play with and alter records...apart from Angels, but when an angel did so there were tell-tale signs of it. Bits would be burned out if they were careful enough not to burn up the entire soul.

"The Undertaker's...habits...aren't known to wipe out records entirely," reasoned William. He frowned and looked at his feet, pausing with a sigh. "He uses those records to re-animate the dead. Ronald...there is something I haven't yet shared with you. It's quite personal. I...must admit that I haven't shared this with anyone...though it is in my personal files within Dispatch."

"Oh?" Ronald tilted his head, a small frown tugging his lips, "That worries me. He didn't do anything to you, did he? Experiments, I mean." He knew William had been in Dispatch a long time before he'd even been born. There was many things about William and the older reapers that he didn't know.

"No, nothing of the sort," assured William with a shake of his head. He sighed and he glanced up at the sky, casting his memory back in time to when he was a fresh young agent like Ronald; training under a man that was practically legendary among his kind. "The Undertaker...was once my mentor. I trained under him. So you see, my admiration and respect is a bit more personal than most realize."

"You mean, you were his apprentice? Like how I'm Grell's? I never heard of him taking on a junior before. No, you have to tell me what it was like!" Ron said, sprinting a few paces in front of William as they walked and turning around so that he was walking backwards. He didn't have as much respect for the man as older reapers did, but Undertaker was still a huge name in their realm.

William smirked without humor. "It was...intimidating. The Undertaker was a very different reaper, back then. Before the madness and his subsequent retirement, he simply went by Death...and he was absolutely brilliant."

He sighed and took his glasses off to clean the lenses with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. "Perhaps even _too_ brilliant, if things I overheard from our superiors were any indication. He found loopholes through every restriction they placed on him. Unsurprising, really. He might be insane, but the Undertaker is extremely clever and calculating. That has not changed in all these years. At any rate, you wish to know what it was like being mentored by him? It was rather like being taken under the wing of my childhood hero. When I discovered I was to be his apprentice, I felt such joy...such excitement...and such terror."

William huffed a soft laugh at the memory of how he'd quaked in his shoes on his first day of training with the silver reaper. "You would not have recognized me, I'm afraid. I was absolutely petrified when I approached him in the library for our first day of training. I couldn't seem to get any coherent words out, I was stammering so much. He looked up at me with this frown on his face, and he asked if I'd been hit on the head. _'Speak up, boy. I don't bite...hard.'_ "

William chuckled again, but the sound was soon lost as he sobered. "And then he left to fight a war against demons. They were encroaching on our realm through a tear in the veil between the worlds. I was still in training and so was not permitted to be at his side. He was gone for nearly a year, and I have no idea what horrors he must have seen, but he wasn't the same when he returned. In addition to the fresh scars marring his body, his outlook had changed...and he began talking to himself."

William picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it absently. "Arguing, really. It was as if he'd split his personality in half and become two people, in order to cope with whatever he'd been through. Death had been through more than one mortal war in his lifetime, but this conflict between reapers and demons was what finally broke him. I asked him to open up to me, to tell me about his experiences. Dispatch sent him to counseling as well, once it became evident to them that he was sinking deeper into his madness. He lasted for perhaps four months, before he finally put aside his glasses and opted to retire."

"They didn't tell us which war it was that caused him to loose it and leave dispatch..." Ron muttered, "But they did tell us horror stories of that war. Some of us students had nightmares after that class. But they said we had to be ready for anything when it comes to demons in large numbers...know when to fight or run." He shrugged off the thought and fell back into step with William.

"But I never imagined you being able to be intimidated like that. But then again, I didn't expect to be nervous myself the first time going out on a reap with Grell...he has such an intimidating reputation for field work, after all, and I didn't know if I'd come close to impressing him, or if he'd decide I'm not worth his time and effort. -Actually, I thought I blew it since shortly after he disappeared on me for weeks while he ran around with that human woman in secret... Man, that was such an awkward time after he got caught."

He was rambling. Again he shook his spiel to the side and got back on topic, "But, before he retired...did he teach you any neat moves?"

William smirked at the younger reaper's enthusiasm. "You have seen me fight, Ronald. Some of those moves were indeed taught to me by the Undertaker. However, I daresay I've yet to meet a reaper that could rival him in terms of grace in combat. I've attempted to emulate that elegance of movement, but I've never quite mastered it. The one thing I believe I _have_ mastered from his teachings is to be one with my scythe. He always taught me that a reaper is only as good as his bond with his reaping tool, and I took it to heart...so much that I slept with it each night, never letting it out of my sight."

He glanced down at the weapon as he spoke, lifting it and giving it a brief, easy spin with one hand. "Honestly, I was rather obsessive with my training."

Ronald frowned, looking down at his old training scythe attached to his belt like it had been when he was a student and before he'd 'upgraded' to his new model. In truth, he'd been comfortable with his training scythe, he enjoyed using it, and he'd only really upgraded to a lawn mower to impress people...and Grell who had insisted that a scythe that stood out was a scythe worth fame and remembrance. And though he'd grown very good at wielding such a weapon, he had found it all too easy to fall back to his training scythe during this war. He'd used his mower for far more years, but, when he thought about it, he only had ever brought it out for reaping. But this scythe...he'd been so proud when he'd received it-earned the right to wield it. He hadn't gone anywhere without it until he had replaced it. It was on his belt, ready and trustworthy while he ate, worked, and spent time out having fun. It sat on his bedside table at night, and it had even been in on the bathroom counter with his glasses when he showered.

He'd formed a connection with it that he lacked with his mower. He even had constant problems with maintaining the mower. It was always getting clogged or the motor would seize up on him mid-fight. He realized he didn't trust it the way he did his old one.

Perhaps... He should switch back. Though his training scythe could use a nice upgrade in the looks-department. A slightly longer handle, perhaps, as well. Showing off was good and fun, but maybe Will was right. Having a scythe he'd bonded with and can trust would make the job less reckless and dangerous. How many times had he been hurt by a demon or angel because his mower had gotten something caught in the gears?

"Only as good as the bond, huh?" he muttered, touching the wooden handle of his training scythe.

Switching back was sounding like a good idea... Plus, he wasn't single anymore. He had William to worry over his safety. He was sure it'd ease the man's worries if he knew Ron was out with a trusted scythe.

"That was what he taught me," agreed William with a nod. Noticing the pensive way Ronald was looking at his old scythe, he paused and he assumed he was missing his lawnmower. "You made a good choice, deciding to bring that in place of your mower. I understand how proud you are of your modified scythe, but this is not an ordinary mission we are on. However this ends, you will be back to using your customized scythe again once we return to business as usual."

"Nah," Ronald shook his head, "That one was more for my vanity than anything. I was just reflecting on how I feel a stronger bond with this old one than my newer one. I never thought about the bond between a reaper and his scythe before." He looked up. "Maybe, it'd be better if I just upgraded this one a bit when I get the time. My Mower is so high maintenance and it still breaks down on me in the middle of a fight."

"I never thought I would hear you admit that," observed William with a little smirk. "I thought you were surely in love with that mower. Well, when all is said and done and we return to our home Dispatch, I'll be certain to give you clearance for modification on the scythe you carry now, if that is your wish."

He looked around with a frown, his senses picking up on the stench of death. William pointed at a run down cottage at the bend in the road up ahead, and he clutched his scythe. "For now, we have other matters to attend. This way, Ronald. I suspect we'll find more victims to collect from—provided they even have intact records."

He resumed his trajectory and he was again stricken with the suspicion that the Undertaker was laying a deliberate trail for them. Either that, or whomever was responsible for these empty records just happened to be laying a trail for Undertaker, and he and Ronald just happened to be following them both. He didn't bother telling the younger reaper to be on alert; by now he trusted Ronald to know that without being prompted.

Ronald blushed slightly, and was going to respond but he dropped it when William pointed to the cottage. Now wasn't the time for extensive idol chatting. They were on the job and had work to finish.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out their list, flipping to the new updated page. He gave a nod. "New names on our list," he confirmed. "Let's go before they get wiped clean."

"Agreed." William readied his scythe as they rounded the bend, and he went into the cottage first. He found an imp trying to feed on one of the three deceased mortals within, and he immediately extended his pole scythe to lance it through the shoulder. The creature shrieked in surprise and pain, somehow managed to extract itself from the weapon, and it turned around to stare at the two interlopers with big yellow eyes. Upon recognizing what Spears and Knox were, the demonling immediately dissipated in a puff of brimstone and smoke before William could go for a second attack.

"Pests," muttered the Dispatch supervisor with a sneer. He retracted his pole and he wiped the bloodied end of it off on the worn rug. He nodded at Ronald and then he approached the female in the small parlor, whilst pulling out his catalogue book. He read through the recent names and matched hers to one of them before beginning.

Her records were empty. With a sigh, William turned to speak to Ronald. The younger reaper had gone to the old man propped in the corner with several bullet wounds riddling his torso. "What is the status on yours, Knox?"

"One-second-ah-ha, there you are," He said, checking over their list for his page. With the go-ahead, he took up his scythe with a bit more flair than he usually gave his old scythe, twirling it in his fingers as he brought it up from his belt and he brought it down to release the man's records for collection.

He paused a moment, the records bursting forth; blank. No—not completely blank. Something was playing, very faintly like ghosts of the memories of his childhood.

Ronald cocked an eyebrow, "Looks like the guy who's been wiping clean records all over the war-zone was in a rush to get out of here. This one has been wiped clean, but not completely. Maybe it'll hold some clues?" he reported, quickly collecting what he could.

"If Undertaker is going after this guy, maybe he interrupted?"

William rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes, that is a distinct possibility. I shall check the third body. Finish gathering what remains of those records whilst I see if there is anything left in this other fellow's records."

He went over to the man by the hearth and he made the necessary cut to obtain the reels. As soon as he saw them, he knew the danger. The reels went straight to the end and suddenly, he was looking at an image of his old mentor, grinning maniacally.

"Oh hells," William had time to say, before the "corpse" opened its eyes and jerked upright. William backed off immediately and spun his scythe, prepared to bring it down as quickly as possible. He was given pause when the Bizarre Doll opened his mouth and spoke in a course, stammering voice.

"N-North," said the doll, staggering to its feet and pointing at William jerkily.

A bit more shaken than he cared to admit, William regarded the animated cadaver warily. "What is north?" He felt foolish, standing there talking to a creature that by all rights shouldn't even exist. He wasn't even sure it could comprehend his question, and he kept himself between the doll and Ronald, on guard for an attack.

"W-W-Wolfsburg," answered the doll, a line of drool dangling from his blue lips. "Y-your...p-p-prey went...there."

The doll then opened its mouth wide and started to advance on William, evidently overcome by its instinctive hunger, now that it had given the message to him. William cursed and extended his pole to drive it back, pinning it against the hearth. He narrowed his eyes and spoke over his shoulder to his companion as the doll flailed in a weirdly disjointed fashion, still trying to reach for him.

"It seems the Undertaker left us a rather blatant clue. This one is weak and in a greater state of deterioration than the others we've seen. I daresay the Undertaker hastily created it for the specific purpose of sending us the message. Writing notes doesn't appear to be his style anymore."

"You should have aimed for the head." Ronald said, finishing his job and glancing at the reanimated corpse. He was glad he hadn't gone to that one. He wouldn't have been able to stay so calm. "The only way to make them stop trying to eat people is to destroy the brain, from my experience."

The Bizarre Doll was reaching for the two reapers, its mouth hanging open, dead eyes staring deep into their souls, it felt like. Not seeming to feel pain, it jerked forward and started sliding along the long pole of William's scythe, leaving blood on each inch behind it.

"I hope the message is over because I'm taking this chance," Ron said, hurrying forward and lifting his scythe. The doll turned it's attention to him and reached for him as he drew closer, but just as his fingers touched Ronald's uniform, Ron's scythe cut through the back of his scull, sending the doll collapsing to the floor like the corpse he should have stayed.

"So, do we head North?"

William put one foot on the chest of the vanquished doll and withdrew his scythe from its decaying body with a grimace of disgust. "Yes. I must caution that this could easily be some mad game of the Undertaker's, but there still exists something of the reaper I once knew in him. I'm inclined to believe that there is a chance he's inviting us to ally with him, strange though his methods are."

He looked at Ronald, and a flicker of emotion manifested in his gaze. "I must find out if my gut feeling is right, Ronald. Should it be correct, then we stand a much better chance of solving this issue with his assistance and perhaps...just perhaps...I can..."

He looked away and compressed his lips. This was a thing he never discussed with anyone. His own father had been so aloof through most of his life. He couldn't exactly say that the Undertaker—his hero—had filled that gap, but it was the closest thing to a father figure he'd had since joining Dispatch. He shook his head and schooled his face into the usual stoic mask and he wiped off his scythe.

"Good work, Mr. Knox. Let us make our way to the settlement mentioned by the doll. With any fortune, we'll get more answers there."

"Perhaps you can...what?" Ronald frowned, slightly concerned over the return of his last name from the man. They were alone, after all. They could speak familiarly.

William seemed distracted by his thoughts again.

"Are you feeling alright?"

William blinked, shaking himself out of it. He tried for Ronald's benefit to allow the mask to slip again, revealing a hint of affection as he looked at him. "Yes...yes, of course. I was over thinking, I suppose."

He began to walk out of the cottage, needing to get away from the stench of decay and blood. When Ronald joined him outside, he looked at the path ahead pensively. "Ronald, when Sutcliff went rogue during the Ripper situation, how did it personally affect you? If there were a way that you personally could have 'saved' your mentor from his madness, would you have done it?"

Ronald bit his lower lip and looked down as he thought on the questions, "I felt...rejected." he admitted, "I was still so green back then. I'd only worked under his guidance for a month and a half before he started that mess. I thought he'd deemed me unworthy of his guidance. One day he and I worked together, then the next he started standing me up. He stopped taking me out on collections, he stopped making sure I was doing my paperwork. I was left completely alone, and I had to beg other senior reapers to make time to take me out on my collections before it was too late to collect them."

He shook his head. "I tried to talk to Grell one evening when I caught him hurrying out of his office. It-didn't work that well, and the rejection hurt...but I was also worried about him. He had said something...odd before he ran out on me again. So, I followed him. I watched him change into that disguise he used, I saw him meet up with that woman, and I saw them take that woman off the streets. I heard her screams. And...I knew I was in over my head with him."

He took a shaky breath. "You discovered him and brought him in when it all ended, everyone knows that...but...You only found him out because of the letter I slipped into your inbox. I didn't want to rat out my mentor, ya know? But I had to do something. So I did so anonymously. Just in time, too. I heard that demon would have killed him had you not shown up when you did. But afterwards when he'd been suspended he was so livid at you... I couldn't bring myself to admit that I had been the one to send you after him. But it was the only thing I could do to save him from his madness. Even if, I'm sure, if he found out what I did he would have abandoned me completely. He's a vengeful guy, after all..."

Ronald fell silent, waiting for William's reaction.

William considered what he'd just been told, and he nodded as they began walking the road north. "Yes, rejected. That makes perfect sense, and Sutcliff did not do right by you at all. Even though the Undertaker was an outstanding mentor to me up until the day he had to leave and go off to war, I felt rejected when he went rogue, as well. I believe it must be natural to feel a sense of personal betrayal when one you look up to and admire abandons not just you, but the organization you've both pledged yourself to."

He looked sidelong at Ronald with a faint little smirk. "And next time, you ought to consider typing such letters. I recognized your handwriting and I knew it was you that placed it in my inbox. I chose not to say anything, because as a reaper who has experienced something of what you must have been going through, I rather empathized. You did the right thing by turning him in, Ronald. Had you not done it, he might have gone on until he was past the point of no return."

William sighed and looked off into the distance, up ahead of them. "I can only hope that is not the case for _my_ old mentor."

"If you knew it was me, why'd you ask if I'd do whatever I could for Grell back then? You already knew I did." Ronald asked, his cheeks heating over his mistake of hand-writing the letter on his napkin rather than taking the time to load his work-issued typewriter with a fresh sheet of paper.

He glance sidelong at William. "Undertaker is a madman, there is no way anyone can deny that, but...if we can trust him on what he told us...He's not behind this mess. He's not too far gone."

William grimaced. Why indeed? "I...suppose I asked because had we been unable to detain Grell and bring him in, he might now be similar to the Undertaker. I was inquiring for your perspective. Imagine this scenario: We never caught Grell and he went on to be a rogue indefinitely. Say he continued stirring up trouble, but then a situation arose similar to this one in which you had the opportunity to ally with him and then either put him out of his misery, or bring him in for a last chance to obtain the help he needs."

William allowed his mask to drop again as he looked Ronald in the eyes. "What would you do, Ronald? Could you kill him if you had to?"

It wasn't like William T. Spears to be uncertain, but this war had shown him things he'd never seen before—along with a different side of himself that he'd thought long buried.

Again, Ronald bit his lip. "I don't know," he admitted. "Back then, he and I hadn't gotten to know each other much. He was my mentor, but he hadn't exactly embraced me yet. That happened after he got off his suspension and I was able to return to him rather than hop around from temp mentor to temp mentor. I don't know if our bond was strong enough then that had he not returned to dispatch..."

The blond sighed, "If that had happened, and right now we were dealing with him rather than the old man...I don't think I would have cared either way. Whichever was easier. But..."

He snapped his gaze back up, firmly meeting William's uncertain one, "If Grell were to ever go rouge again, I would avoid killing him as much as I could. Try to bring him back to Dispatch and the Council."

William nodded, and some of the tension relaxed from his muscles. "I see. Well then, let us hope a peaceful solution can be obtained with the Undertaker, whenever this is all finished."

Inwardly he dreaded a final confrontation with his mentor. Though he came off as self-assured and aloof, he wasn't arrogant enough to presume he was even _close_ to a match for his mentor. In fact, William was sure deep in his bones that such a confrontation would be the end of him, should it come down to a death match between himself and the Undertaker. It would certainly take more than himself to take the legendary reaper down, but he had hopes—perhaps foolish hopes—that Undertaker would stay his hand and listen to him, rather than cut him down.

They kept moving to their next destination, finally hitching a ride with a passing Nazi convoy on the way with the excuse that they'd gotten separated from their regiment and needed a ride to Wolfsburg.

* * *

Wolfsburg was a busy city with a higher amount of military traffic and security. The city was being used as a productions base. Manufacturing military vehicles, aircraft, and other equipment being used in the war.

Needless to say, they didn't want the Allies to infiltrate the city and be free to sabotage production. This forced William and Ronald to further play their parts, having to sign in and speak to the command center of the city before they were granted the freedom to move around and go about their "official business".

Ronald's eyes widened, "Now _this_ is a part of the war I could enjoy! Look at that one!" he pointed at a fighter plane being fitted with its front propeller. "Oh man, it'd be sweet to learn how to fly one of them things! I've always wanted to, ya know? Ever since word of the Wright Brothers' success came! I wonder why us reapers never thought of developing a way to fly..."

"Concentrate, Ronald," interrupted William, barely hiding his smirk of amusement. "We are here on a purpose. The sight-seeing can wait for a better time."

His eyes shifted left and right, ever alert for the threat of an ambush or signs of his missing mentor. "I promise you, when this is all finished we shall return to this locale to admire the human ingenuity later. For the moment, however, we need to focus on this task. Please, do not allow yourself to get distracted."

"But-those things allow people to fly!" Ronald insisted, "How can you not find that awesome?" With a frustrated groan, he let his head fall back as he gave a little hop, making himself look very much like a young teenager not wanting to be controlled and told to calm down on Christmas.

But he did know William was right. It wasn't the time to fan-boy over the machines being built. They had a job to do. An important one.

But he was surrounded by so many cool things!

"...Maybe we can test drive a plane and use it to search for the old kook..?" he tried with little hope of being taken seriously.

William suffered a moment of inward hilarity, and he tried his best to contain his laughter. Goodness, how this young one affected him. "Later," he promised, "after we've taken care of the business we are here for."

In fact, the spiritual traces were leading away from the current location and they needed to stay on track. William pointed that fact out to his companion with more gentleness than usual, understanding Ronald's excitement.

"We dare not dally," he warned the younger reaper softly when Ronald drifted close enough to hear. "This could be our shining moment, Knox. Save the rest for afterwards, please."

Ronald sighed and hung his head in disappointment, "I know, I know..." He glanced back at the plane as William urged him on and they continued side-by-side down the lane, "We have a mission to complete. Orders are orders, and work comes before play...all that jazz. But this is the first fun thing we've encountered in this war! No death, just making really cool things! It's refreshing."

William checked his watch. "Hmm. Perhaps we could spare a few moments to have a closer look at them. So long as we don't lose sight of our mission and don't linger for long. The trail is still hot. Just don't invest too much time in it, Ronald."

"Really?" Ronald blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected William to suggest such a thing. Even if they were dating in their personal time. "We can take a closer look now? We have the time?"

"So long as you keep it brief," answered the older reaper with a nod. "As you say, we aren't likely to return to this place anytime soon, once this is all over with." He nodded towards the aircrafts. "Shall we?"

"Remind me to kiss you later!" Ronald grinned, resisting the urge to grab his hand. After all, it was a dangerous place to openly show their more private relations. Doing so would only cause them more problems they couldn't afford.

Instead, he turned and hurried at a quickened pace over to the plane being built, looking up at the sleek build of the body. William joined him and he had to admit that it was fascinating. Seeing as they could make use of portals to travel long distances in the reaper realm, Shinigami really had no need for airplanes. Cars, bikes and subways were about the extent of the transportation they used back home.

One of the mechanics noticed them staring, and he looked as though he was about to say something until he noticed William's officer colors. Instead of warning them away from the craft, he invited them to have a closer look. William nearly smiled at Ronald's obvious enthusiasm when he translated for him. "He is inviting us to climb into the plane and have a closer look."

Keeping to their covers, Ronald exclaimed first in Italian, and then acted like he caught himself before repeating it in English.

"Erm, I mean, we can go inside?!" He beamed over at the mechanic, "Grazie." He nodded, unable to keep the excitement out of his eye as he looked back up at the plane.

Keeping his expression as neutral as possible to hide his amusement, William thanked the mechanic as well and he circled around to the side of the plane as instructed. He gestured at the ladder leading up to the cockpit. "After you."

Ronald grinned and nodded, soon finding himself climbing up into the new fighter plane.

The control panel had been installed. Dials, switches, levers and meters were displayed neatly. If only he knew what they were all for—and if only he knew how to work one.

Imagining himself—and possibly William—flying one of these things across Europe, he sat down to look and get a feel for it, but he didn't touch anything more.

"I want one."

William sat down behind him gingerly, mistrustful of the odd aircraft. "One thing at a time. Perhaps some day when this is all over and things settle down on this side, we can return and procure a...ride."

He swallowed even as he said it. Not that he was fearful of heights, but leaping over rooftops was a far cry different from riding in a big hunk of metal machinery thousands of feet up. He made a mental note to learn more about how these aircrafts operated, as he'd rather be the one flying it than trusting in some mortal to keep them in the air without crashing.

"Yes!" Ronald turned, grinning ear-to-ear in excitement and his eyes practically shimmering. "Please! It'd be the best date ever! Maybe if we get a day off that's not because of stays in the hospital?"

William almost groaned, and he wished he hadn't said anything before having the opportunity to research more. What was done was done, though—and he wasn't one to go back on his word. "When the opportunity presents itself, certainly."

"Sweet!" Ronald leaned back in the seat and continued to look around at everything, "You're the best, Will."

William managed a brief, faint smile at that, but then his eyes went blank as he imagined himself in an airplane doomed to crash. He stiffened and gripped the seat he was sitting in, and he lost all awareness of his surroundings as his imagination replayed that unexpected fear in his mind again and again. He lost track of time completely and he was still sitting there like that after ten minutes had passed.

"...Hey, Hey Will!" Ronald was next to him, snapping his fingers in front of his face, "Did ya die? We should get going. I know this thing is cool, but we're on the job." He moved to shake William's shoulder.

The older reaper was shaken out of his daze, and he blinked at Ronald. Faintly mortified by his lapse, he cleared his throat and nodded sharply. "Yes...yes, of course. We should be going."

He climbed out of the cockpit and descended the ladder, then solicitously held it steady for his partner as Ronald joined him. He nodded at the mechanic that had been generous enough to let them board the plane, and he spoke to him in German. "Thank you for that demonstration. It is an impressive craft."

The mechanic grinned and nodded, tipping his cap respectfully. "Of course, Adjutant. Please be safe in your journeys and battles."

William smirked humorlessly. Nobody involved in this war was "safe"; particularly now with an unknown villain out there wiping the records of the deceased. Not even people's souls were safe, any longer. "We shall keep that in mind. Good day to you."

Gesturing for his companion, he straightened his hat and began to walk out of the hangar. Once they were far enough away for him to do so without attracting curious attention, he pulled out his navigation device and he pointed at the road leading away from the area. "Let's try this way, first. It would have been useful if the Undertaker had chosen to disclose a more precise location to meet up, but it appears we shall have to play a guessing game. As I recall, my mentor is fond of brandy. I believe we may have better luck seeking out the taverns and checking them first. Otherwise, the local mortuaries or crematoriums may yield results."

"Mmmh, taverns...you, sir, tempt me." Ronald smirked jokingly. He liked to drink, but he didn't lack self-control. He wouldn't actually drink while on the job, and if he did, he would keep it to only one so as to not impair his judgment.

He tugged his black gloves tighter onto his hands. "I suggest we get moving. We've already spoiled ourselves with a short break, and we don't know how long he's willing to wait for us."

"Agreed," said William with a nod. They started with the taverns first, working their way through town and keeping a sharp eye out for his former mentor. He had no idea what to expect. The last time they'd seen the Undertaker, he was masquerading as a doctor. Whether they would find him in his usual funeral attire or something else, he could not say. Of one thing he was certain, though. Regardless of how the ancient was dressed, there would be no mistaking him.

* * *

-To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

Gloved fingertips drummed slowly and rhythmically on the surface of the table he sat at. In his other hand, he held a pocket watch and he clicked his tongue as the moments kept ticking by. "Not like you to be so tardy for an engagement, Willy-boy. I expected to see you here long before now."

He tapped his head with a little frown. "Wait...did I give him the name of the place?" The ancient frowned thoughtfully, replaying the moment in his mind. He knew he'd given the dollie the name of the settlement, but he couldn't for the death of him recall whether he left the name of the pub he'd be in. It had been a rush job, after all...rather sloppy compared to his usual work. Suppose he'd done such a poor job that the doll wasn't able to relay his little message? What if Spears and his companion dispatched it before it could even try?

"Ah, drat," he muttered, putting aside the watch to pick up his glass of brandy and have a sip. "Old fool...should have paid more attention to what you were doing."

He sighed, thinking he'd have to backtrack and leave more little clues for Willy to follow. He wasn't even sure _why_ he was luring him along, except curiosity. He'd heard William's scream when the hard-headed bloke stuck his hand into his portal, and he wondered how it patched up. Undertaker could likely handle things without help, thought it might prove a bit tedious.

"Sentiment, mayhap?" he wondered aloud in a low tone. He caught a flash of movement out the corner of his eye from the window, and he turned to look through it. A grin spread over his pale lips, and he chuckled. "Looks as though I'll have the chance to find out soon."

William and his young companion were passing by the window outside, and if he still knew the mortician's habits, they'd likely come walking through the pub door in a few moments. Undertaker sat back in his chair and whistled a little tune, trusting Spears to come to him.

* * *

"Trying this one next?" Ronald asked, swerving off to the door of the tavern. They had already tried two other pubs that they had crossed, with no luck, and there were two left on this particular street. He reached out and grasped the door handle, giving it a firm tug to swing it open. "The old crazy could have at least told us where in this place to meet him if that is his intention."

He held open the door for William and then stepped in behind him, His eyes immediately started to scan over the many men spending their free time there with a drink and flirting comments to the female workers.

The blond's gaze paused in it's wandering on a single SS officer sitting at a table, fingers tapping on the hard surface next to a half-finished drink. His back was to them, but under his uniform hat was hair of silvery-white. At first it looked as if the hair was short and slicked back, but upon further looking, the young reaper realized it was tucked up under the hat in order to hide it's length.

"Will." Ronald nodded over to the small table in the back of the room next to the wall.

William looked in the direction Ronald had indicated, and when he saw his old mentor sitting there dressed in a uniform similar to theirs. The Undertaker lifted his head and met Will's eyes, and he smiled toothily at him and waved, wiggling his fingers. William's heart lurched at the sight, his mind casting back to the days when he used to get that smile of greeting as an apprentice. He'd done his best not to think of it for so long...that sense of hero worship he'd had, and how a nod of approval or smile from him would make his whole day brighter. Those days were gone now, though. The reaper smiling at him had sunk into madness, and it was likely to get worse before it got better.

Without a word, William approached the table. He removed his hat and he gave the Undertaker a stiff, formal bow. "Sir. Good of you to come. For a moment I wondered if you had led us on a wild goose chase."

The Undertaker snickered softly and he gestured at the unused chairs around the table. " _Guten Tag,_ _mein freund_. Have a seat."

William glanced at Ronald, before pulling out a seat as directed and sitting down. "That was an...interesting message you left us."

Undertaker smirked. "Thought you might like that. So, did you finish my dollie off, or did you leave him wandering 'bout scaring the locals?"

"We disposed of it, naturally," answered William. "What has my curiosity piqued is why you left this trail for us. It is clear that you did so deliberately."

"Clear, is it?" Undertaker sat back in his seat and sipped his drink. "Clear as mud, you mean. But you've got a curious streak, boy. Always have, no matter how you try t' hide it."

"Having one of those bloody dolls of yours tell us to come to this town is a pretty clear indication that you are deliberately leading us along for some reason," Ronald cut in, crossing his arms. "What's 'muddy' is why you want us following you. Last time we met you were quite eager to run away."

The Undertaker shrugged, still grinning. "Wasn't too keen on having my whereabouts reported to Dispatch; like I told you. I'm curious, though. Are you two fellows keen on a game of 'hide and seek'?"

William started to answer, but a barmaid came over and he ordered a beer for Ronald and himself—if only to get her out of the way. When she was gone, he looked at the Undertaker again. "I realize you have developed a rather unusual sense of entertainment, sir, but this is no game. Need I remind you of the seriousness of what has been happening? You surely must realize it yourself, else you would not have left us a trail. I would like to know what changed your mind, and since you saw fit to lead us here, I would appreciate it if you would shed some light on this."

William took a slow breath, and he looked into the ancient's eyes and spoke softly. "Please, Death. Some part of you trusted me enough to seek you out, without involving Dispatch directly. If you know who or what is responsible for this most recent meddling with cinematic records, share it with us. My companion and I are on a new mission now to investigate and put a stop to it. I believe we can help each other."

Ronald looked away, muttering under his breath a few words of displeasure at the choice of words William had decided to use. " _Quindi sono solo un compagno quando di fronte al suo idolo vecchiaccio?_ "

Honestly, 'companion'? He didn't have to be so professional about referring to him to the old loon.

"And where does that leave ol' Undertaker in the end?" questioned the mortician. "Say I help you track the culprit down and put an end to him. That still leaves my meddling with the records for you to deal with, yeah?"

William sighed, feeling another headache coming on. "Yes, but priorities are priorities. The record wiper is the one of most concern to us, at the moment. You are guilty of altering records at the end of them, but you still leave the life events intact. I presume that if you can add to the records, you can also undo your work. Would I be correct?"

Undertaker shrugged. "Maaaybe. Is that the deal you're hinting at offering me, Spears? I reverse my work on my dollies and Dispatch calls it square?" He propped his chin in his palm curiously.

William hesitated. "I cannot speak for my superiors at Dispatch, but it would certainly help your case. I would request leniency and remind the senior executives of everything you have done for the organization in the past. But let us cross that bridge when we arrive at it, shall we? Right now the goal is to put a stop to the larger problem. Will you at least consider my proposal, or did you lure us here simply to mock me?"

He winced inwardly at the last part, hating himself for still being so easily affected by this reaper. His abandonment had hurt, though...leaving William disillusioned and depressed for a long time. He hadn't meant to allow his emotions to come through, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them.

"Now lets not make this awkward." Ronald sighed, pausing when their beers were brought to the table. "Erm, Donkey," he attempted to thank her, cringing when he realized he'd butchered it. "-or however you say it..."

The blond shook his head and sipped his drink, relaxing back in his seat to let William and his old mentor talk out their awkward memories, waiting to get the subject back on track. Undertaker was now staring at William in an unsettling way, his head tilting slightly to the side.

"And how are you holding up, dear William? I imagine you've seen your share of horrendous sights in this war. There's something in your eyes that looks familiar to me. Not cracking yet, I hope?"

William found himself on the verge of reaching for Ronald's hand as his old mentor's words and piercing gaze seemed to tear away his defenses. It felt like he was staring into his soul, dissecting his thoughts and studying them. Will glanced sidelong at his partner, watching as Ronald tipped his glass to have a swallow of beer.

"Stoicism can be difficult to come by at times," he admitted, "but I have not been alone, as you reportedly were when you left on your final mission."

"Ah, but these are your mother's people, as I recall." Undertaker sipped his drink again. "Must be wearing on you, seeing what they're doing. You've got a more personal interest in what goes on here than most of your colleagues realize, I'd wager."

William stiffened in his seat and he deliberately slammed shut all mental doors, freezing his expression to that cool, opaque mask he wore at the office. "What is the purpose in your asking me these questions, Undertaker?"

The mortician took a breath as though preparing to answer that, and then he hesitated. "Hmph. You know, I'm really not sure! Fancy that." A chuckle burst from him as if he found the whole thing humorous.

"I don't see what's so funny!" Ronald snapped. He had tried to hold his tongue out of respect for William as he listened in on the conversation, but he didn't like how the topic was affecting his companion. Especially when he saw Will's walls go back up so fast...the walls he'd so carefully been working to see come down enough to get to know the real William T. Spears behind the mask of cold, uncaring professionalism.

"You may have had a hard time with the war years ago, but that doesn't mean you know what Will's going through with this one! You don't see every day how it's been affecting him and you asking these questions mindlessly is not helping in the least! If you must ask such things, the least you could do is show concern for him—show some empathy! You're just making him feel attacked right now and he's closing up all over again because of you! So if you would please shut up your blasted gigglemug and actually discuss the topic we came to discuss, that would be much more appreciated, ya old nutter!"

The blond set down his drink and pointed at the grinning elder. "Will still looks up to your arse! Don't take advantage of that by getting in under his skin and making him feel like he needs to close himself off all over again! Death almighty, I'll never understand his fascination with you!" He ranted.

William stared at him in response to the outburst, and so did the Undertaker. The former of the two was stunned to hear Ronald so aptly describe the inner struggle he'd been trying to conceal, and the latter was most likely not used to being talked to that way by anyone. For one chilling moment, the mortician's pale face underwent a change of expression that had Will considering summoning his death scythe to defend his partner. He instead chose to try diffusing the situation with words, not wishing to spoil the chance of allying with his old mentor and perhaps eventually getting him the help he'd needed for so long.

"Enough," barked William. "Undertaker, you surely must have had a purpose in leading us here for this reunion, and Ronald is correct. My personal feelings on this war are not something I currently wish to discuss, and while we sit here bantering, the one we are after gets further away from us. Now please, either choose to work with us and disclose what you know, or dismiss us. My partner and I will walk away this time, leaving you to your own devices while we get back on the criminals trail. Which is it going to be?"

Undertaker leaned back in his chair and he studied the two of them with an interested smirk. "My, my. It seems you really _aren't_ alone in this struggle, Spears. Good for you. I can say one thing for the boy; he's got bollocks. Whether that'll be enough or not, I couldn't guess. We'll see. Meet me at the graveyard on the south edge of town tonight and we'll discuss it. Too many ears about right now and there's no telling how many of these mortals speak English. Unless you'd rather discuss our business in front of _them_."

He nodded meaningfully toward the bar, and William turned to see that indeed, the place was beginning to fill up. He calmed his tone and relaxed a little, hopeful that the ancient was being sincere. It was a chance. "You are right, of course. Your terms are acceptable. We'd best not find a cemetery full of your dolls when we arrive."

Undertaker smiled. "I don't just leave 'em sitting out in the open, chap. My...er...collection is safely stashed away until needed."

Ronald leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and cheeks pink; though he retained his stubborn expression. He wasn't going to back down now and apologize for his outburst. Not while Undertaker was still there. But he knew he had just risked William's anger for it. Inwardly, he braced himself for the lecture he'd surely receive later. Not only had he spoken disrespectfully to an elder, but he'd also said too much, he was sure of that. He only hoped William would forgive him.

"I should certainly hope so." William finished off his beer and he got up, extending his hand to his old mentor in a polite gesture of closing the deal. Undertaker accepted and they shook on it. "Well then, we shall see you at the appointed time. Shall we say ten o'clock?"

The mortician nodded and retracted his hand. "See you then, chaps. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

For the first time since the meeting, William smirked slightly. "And what precisely would that be, sir? Let me guess: follow the rules?"

The Undertaker snickered, and he shook a finger at William. "Now, now. You know I wasn't always such a hellion, Willy."

Will sobered a bit, and he gave a solemn nod. "Yes...I know that all too well. Good day to you. Ronald, are you ready to go?"

"Y-yeah..." Ron's voice cracked slightly and he stood up, ignoring that he still had a little of his drink left as he moved to follow William out of the pub. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling anxious.

"Oh man... how much trouble am I in?" he asked once they were outside and away from Undertaker.

"Not too terribly much," answered William. He checked the portal tracker. "My one grievance aside from you speaking too passionately aloud concerning our personal relationship outside of work is your disrespect. From now on, you will address the Undertaker with due respect for his age and his previous contributions. Calling him an 'old nutter' is unacceptable. I don't ask you to like him, but I do require that you conduct yourself properly unless the situation demands otherwise. Do you understand, Ronald?"

He glanced at the smaller reaper sidelong, and his mouth threatened to curve into a smirk. Knox really had surprised him back there, and if it weren't for William realizing he was trying to defend him, he might have been harsher.

"I guess. He's still an old nutter, though, and I didn't like how he was acting! Respect should be earned, not expected with age! At least, that's how I see it. And I wasn't around, like, a quintillion years ago when he was doing all them history book things."

He sighed, "Sorry, I wont call him a nutter in front of him again..."

William glanced down at the broken path they were walking on, and he sighed. "Ronald, you must try to understand that the Undertaker _did_ earn the respect. He wasn't revered simply because of his age. In his day, Death...er...Undertaker took down more evils than you or I could possibly imagine. We honor our veterans, and while I understand he hasn't given the best impression of late, he was not always as he is now."

It weighed on him, and he felt his footsteps beginning to drag. How much would it take for _him_ to finally snap that way? Sometimes he wondered if he was already well on the way to joining the Undertaker in his madness.

"Reapers that fall in combat—whether through death or madness—should still be revered. Dispatch might not be here now, if it weren't for him. He sacrificed his sanity in that final battle. Don't refer to him that way again, in my presence. I'd rather you call my father names than that reaper. Insanity is not a thing to be made fun of."

"But he's not the same guy as he was. Old man Death earned respect, sure, but old man Undertaker? First time I met him he was setting a bunch of his dolls loose on a ship full of people in the middle of the ocean. He has the skills to kick my arse, sure, but that's the only part of the old him I have ever seen. I'm not like you. I didn't know him back then. I wasn't even born yet. It's hard to look at him and see the legend."

"Be that as it may, you _do_ know me, Ronald." William picked up the pace, eager to end the subject and get back to their accommodations on the other side. He wanted a decent meal and a hot bath to try and relax some of his tension, before their scheduled meeting with his old mentor. "Have you ever known me to praise a single soul without good reason, before? I am well-aware of the nicknames our colleagues have graced me with, over the years. My admiration isn't exactly what one would call easy to come by."

"Yeah, I know. You're an unimpressed hard-ass." Ron shrugged, "But your admiration for him is for the man who mentored you, not the madman that resulted after he cracked and left Dispatch. I'm not saying I won't admire the man he is as everyone admires the man he was, but the man he is hasn't exactly showed me why I should. Breaking huge rules of life and death and saying the things he did to you just now isn't showing me why I should. You were his junior—he should respect you more, show you how proud he is of your accomplishments."

For a moment, William was confused by Ronald's words...but he sorted out the jumble quickly and his expression darkened. "The way your mentor respects you?"

"Well..." Ronald rubbed the back of his neck, "Okay, so Grell isn't the best example. But he is proud of me when I accomplish something big. He supports me good when he's not causing trouble and overtime. He's a good mentor when he wants to be."

"And so was the Undertaker," insisted William. "The man gave me all the praise for my achievements that my own father never did. He gave me the encouragement that had always been lacking in my life. He was even kind to me, when he wasn't pressing me to improve. The only difference between him and Sutcliff is that the Undertaker never got help for his insanity. As a matter of fact, I remain unconvinced that Grell is sane. He simply isn't far enough over the edge to be institutionalized."

"Oh, I've no doubt that Senpai is completely crazy." Ron shrugged, "But he still supports me now, even though I'm not working so directly under him any more. I'm still a junior reaper, but I'm at the point where I only go to him for help if I have to. But he's still here for me. That man," he gestured back towards the tavern as if he was still there, "has he done that for you since leaving? Did he say anything about your promotion to Supervisor? All I heard was him prying into your brain and pushing to see if ya have gone bonkers yet."

William gave him an agitated look. The more they discussed it, the more anxious and frustrated he felt. "And it hasn't occurred to you that perhaps he asked those questions out of concern? I realize he doesn't express it the way most others do, but his thought processes are different from ours."

They had arrived at the portal and William stopped before it in the alley, challenging Ronald with his eyes.

"Sure, but you didn't seem too pleased about it. It bothered you, so it doesn't count!" Ron insisted.

William sighed and stepped through the portal after making sure no mortals were about to possibly witness his disappearance. When Ronald joined him on the other side, he got his bearings and began to walk to the bed and breakfast they'd been set up in for their stay in this part of the reaper world.

"Of course it troubled me," he admitted, "it's a sensitive subject and I dislike reminders of what happened to the reaper I once admired so much. I doubt the Undertaker was unaware of that, when he questioned me. He always has his reasons though, and I suspect he was testing me...trying to discern if I am up for the task of hunting down the party responsible for the rash of blank records."

"Well he could'a been more direct about it if that was the case! I know you want me to respect him, but I didn't appreciate it at all!" Ronald jogged up ahead to cut William off, finally able to show affection now that they were out of the mortal realm. He stopped William and cupped his cheek. "I worry about you, Will. And it seemed like he was doing more damage than good. I was just wanting to help you. I wanted you to know I was here for you no matter what. Even if I'd be confronting a crazy old legend that you look up to. I only want what's best for you."

William stopped in his tracks and he stared at the younger reaper, taken aback by his actions. He didn't know how to respond at first, and he impulsively laid one gloved hand over the one resting on his cheek. "You...needn't worry, Ronald. I am simply reacting to an uncomfortable situation."

Driven as much by mischief as curiosity, William leaned in and he kissed Ronald on the mouth. He hadn't entertained his desire for romantic affection towards Ronald much at all, of late. While it felt a bit strange and out of character for him, it was also a thrill. He cupped the back of Ronald's head to keep him from pulling away and he deepened the kiss, desiring more than just a brief contact of lips.

Well, that was a little unexpected. Public displays of attention from Will were holding hands at best...at least until now. Ronald closed his eyes and slipped his arms around William, holding him in the kiss just as much as he was. His lips pressed firm against Will's, a hum bubbling to the surface.

He could get used to this.

"I guess this means..." he hummed into the kiss, "I'm forgiven?"

Truthfully, William could no longer recall why he was irritated with Ronald at all...if he was in fact irritated to begin with. His breath had quickened in response to Knox's reciprocation and he dearly wished they had a more private place nearby. Sweet mother of death, he wanted him.

"I should say so," he finally managed, reluctantly disengaging from Ronald's embrace. Regardless of a greater tolerance of same-gender romance, it simply wouldn't do well for his reputation if he was seen publicly mauling his subordinate in the streets of the Shinigami realm. "Let us retire to our room for a bit, shall we? I think...perhaps a bit of rest would do us both well."

Rest was possibly the furthest thing from William's mind at this point, though.

"Rest? Will, you have my head spinning!" Ron grinned, linking their arms together, "I take it we will be submitting our daily reports and collections after our next meeting with your old mentor?"

William accepted the gesture with ease that surprised even himself. As they walked the streets to the bed and breakfast they were assigned to, he put an arm around Ronald's waist and he inwardly warned himself not to get too terribly invested in the intimacy of the moment. "Yes. It makes no sense to report in until we have something worthwhile to report, naturally. We should seek rest and relaxation while we can."

They made it to the host building and William cordially held the entrance door open for Ronald before following him inside. Once they made it upstairs and to their bedroom, some wicked impulse grabbed hold of him and sunk its talons in like a bird of prey. He pressed Ronald up against the door and he kissed him deeply. His earlier frustrations melted away and he allowed himself to get lost in the younger reaper's kiss.

_~Let the world stray where it will. Let it all burn, for all I care. I've earned at least this much pleasure.~_

Heart pounding, William ravished his companion's mouth and he allowed his lust to have free reign for once. He was tired of always being so immaculate and proper...tired of depriving himself of the very basics of life. He yanked his hat off and let it fall to the floor as he stroked Ronald's tongue with his own. He yearned for a connection...desired this young blond more than he could possibly express...and he feared rejection from him even as he tried to express his needs in his kiss.

"Ahh-ah!" Ronald, again, had been taken by surprise as he found himself trapped firmly between the door and William's body. His boss and lover's kiss was so demanding and needful. Even the way the man's hands felt on him was...

Ronald blushed. He couldn't remember ever being treated this way. Needful, yes, but it was always in a using way, not a passionate way.

It didn't take long before his trousers were no longer comfortable, feeling a tad tight in the crotch region, but he couldn't move much, and he was sure William could already feel it pressing into his leg. William was starting something he may have a hard time backing out of pretty soon...

_~Oh gods...this is sheer Heaven.~_

The thought crossed William's mind as he pressed harder against his lover, feeling Ronald's answering need not only in his kiss, but through the barrier of their clothing. They'd agreed to wait before consummating their relationship, but it was torturous. He couldn't recall ever wanting anyone this badly before, and he ground his hips against Ronald's as he threaded his fingers through his and shoved his hands up over his head. His tongue lanced between the younger reaper's lips insistently and he groaned, aching all over for him.

"Ronald," he gasped between kisses, letting his lips trail over the blond's jaw. Good gracious, it was potent. The skin was so smooth against his mouth and the scent...death help him. William released one of the blond's hands and he dragged his palm over Ronald's chest and stomach. It meandered lower and he groaned again, wanting more. How long had he desired this sort of contact? Not meaningless physical grinding, but something more. He felt it with every gasp from Ronald's lips, every needy gyration of his hips. This was more than just physical. It went much deeper than that.

Just like that day in their meager shelter from the bombs, William was fast losing control of his senses. He didn't know how else to express himself, how else to tell the younger man how much he appreciated his support and affection. He let his hand drift lower and he cupped the straining bulge between Ronald's thighs, seeking out his mouth again to muffle his low cries of need.

Yes. Even if they had to wait, he could at least claim this much. He fondled his companion's hardened package, giving him a taste of what he could expect in the future. His lips muffled Ronald's surprised exclamation and he gently squeezed and rubbed the area in his palm.

"I want you so bloody much it kills me," admitted William in a gasp.

Ronald and his protective, defensive loyalty. Ronald and his youthful good looks, his dimpled smiles, his impulsive bravery. There wasn't a thing William could imagine trading for this one moment with his partner.

"I—I thought we were waiting!" Ronald gasped from his kiss-swollen lips. He was so turned on that the man could pick him up, throw him on the bed, and have his way with him fully. And Rhea knew he wanted it, too. "Y-you have us passing the point of no return, Will! Oh—Lord of fuck, I want you!"

Ronald felt too hot; his clothes too heavy and layered for this sort of activity, and it only furthered his need to shed clothing. Deciding he had had quite enough of clothes, he grabbed William's uniform jacket and yanked it down off his shoulders, the buttons flying off. He didn't care. They each had a few uniforms. This one could be fixed later. Right now he wanted William's smooth skin pressed against his.

Even further excited by Ronald's reactions, William began to walk backwards toward the bed, guiding Ronald to come with him. When the back of his knees pressed against the mattress, he turned the younger man around in his arms and bore him down to the bed, settling his hips between Ronald's thighs. He lifted up a bit to yank his uniform jacket off and toss it away, and then he slid his hand between the press of their bodies to fumble with Ronald's zipper. Intercourse might have to wait, but that didn't mean he couldn't have the blond screaming his name before nightfall.

The intensity of his own reactions was a bit startling to William, and he nearly pulled away simply because he was so unused to feeling this kind of desperate need for someone. He powered on though, determined to prove both to Ronald and to himself that he was capable of being more than a cold, distant autocrat. He got the blond's pants unzipped and he reached in to expose him, gripping his stiffened length firmly to begin stroking it.

"Yes...oh Styx yes, Will!" Ronald gasped, trembling with excitement. How often had he dreamed of this? How many mornings had he awoken with a strong arousal and need only to have to behave and wait for William to get out of the shower so he could grab a cold one? How secretly desperate was he since they had started to romance each other had he yearned for William to touch him in such ways?

And now, it was happening. He was half naked and under the man he'd fallen for, his hands on his sex.

He reached forward and rubbed Will through his pants. The older reaper groaned softly in approval, hips jerking to press more firmly into Ronald's touch. His misgivings about the strength of his attraction and desire for Ronald began to fade away as his pleasuring was reciprocated, and his lips claimed the blond's again in a heated kiss. He lifted his hips a bit when Ronald started working at his belt and tugging on his fly, his urgency increasing even more. He was throbbing and far too restricted in this condition. His tongue danced enticingly against Ronald's, and low noises of passion vibrated in his throat.

Their reports could wait. They didn't have much to report at this time anyhow. They could write up a full account of everything once they had their meeting with the Undertaker and had something of value to report. He and Ronald had earned this moment, and William wasn't about to interrupt it with more business. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and he was thankful that he'd put it on the silent setting—more to prevent any mortals hearing it while they were out amongst them than any planned intent to seduce his partner.

"Nn-mmr-pants!" Ronald huffed out as he pushed Will's slacks from his hips so that he could grab hold of William and return the stroking. His fingers wrapping warmly around Will's shaft and slowly building up to match Williams movements.

William's breath huffed and a shudder coursed through him. Ronald's touch was eager and clever. He seemed to figure out what felt best to William quickly, and the supervisor groaned and flexed his hips encouragingly when the speed and friction was just right for him. He was getting close to his peak already—which was an unusual thing for him. It usually took much more effort for his partners to get him off without intercourse, but Ronald was about to do just that.

"Knox," he gasped, and he yanked open the blond's uniform jacket, following quickly with the shirt beneath. Now Ronald's buttons were scattered over the bed and the floor like William's, and for once, the immaculate reaper didn't give a damn about the careless destruction of a perfectly good uniform. He just wanted to see more of his companion...taste more of him.

Ronald's thin but toned torso was quickly exposed, his abs flexing as he moved under William, bucking his hips up to bring their shafts together so he could grip them together. "Will—!" With his free hand he pulled William down into a kiss, closing his eyes again as he tasted his lips.

William's responsive kiss was almost rough, and then he dragged his mouth down to suck and lick the younger reaper's throat, making his way to his chest. His hand covered Ronald's over their straining, throbbing members and he nipped lightly at Ronald's left nipple, before tracing it with his tongue. He grunted as he did the same with the other one, hopelessly enticed by the taste and texture of Ronald's skin. He felt his groin tightening and he gasped a protest, trying not to come first.

Ronald wasn't close to completion, that was, he wasn't until William nipped at his nipples. His sex twitched, the pressure and need for release suddenly overtaking him.

"Ohh-fuck!" He panted, his voice cracking. "W-ll!"

His hand sped up under Will's and seconds later, he was crying out as he spilled out onto himself.

William smirked briefly with satisfaction, but his impending orgasm didn't allow for him to be smug for very long. He lasted perhaps ten seconds longer and then he tensed over Ronald, breath hitching in his lungs as he contributed to the creamy mess between them. Closing his eyes, William relished the bliss of the intimate encounter and bowed his head. Ronald's length had just finished twitching against his own when the climax eased up, and William lifted his head to stare down at his companion, sweat beading his forehead.

He had to admire the way Ronald looked in the afterglow, and before he knew it, he began to smile. True to form, it wasn't a terribly wide smile, but it was more expressive than his usual faint little smirks. He felt compelled to kiss Ronald softly, and he whispered against the moist, soft lips.

"I do hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, Ronald."

"You kidding me?" Ronald grinned up at his lover, "We didn't go all the way and sill it was the best I've had, possibly ever." He closed his eyes and breathed out through his slightly opened mouth, "Damn, you're good..."

He reached up and cupped Will's cheek, his fingertips touching the man's glasses in the process and shifting them on his face. "Tell me what I did to deserve that treatment so that I can do it again."

William paused, wondering how to answer that. In truth, he was feeling rather frustrated with Ronald over the entire debate concerning Undertaker. He'd initially started kissing him to keep him from going on further rants against William's previous mentor, because he didn't want for it to turn into an argument that he suspected would have ended in anger and needless tension. Then once he started kissing him, he couldn't stop and he forgot all about his frustration and the anxiety he was trying to keep to himself.

"I think," he said carefully, "that the day's frustration simply got the better of me, and I wished to give us both a positive thing to enjoy together, while we could. I honestly did not intend for it to go that far, Ronald...but I don't regret it."

Ronald nodded, "Then I regret nothing we did today." he hummed, moving to press another gentle kiss to his lover's lips. "Including this cheesy cliché of letting you know that I love you after we do something like that together."

That brought another little smile to William's lips. Hearing anyone say that they loved him was a foreign thing to him as it was, but to hear it from Ronald gave him a feeling of happiness that was even rarer, still. He stared at him for several moments, just gazing into his eyes. A part of him wondered if Knox truly meant that, or if it was infatuation. After all, he hadn't known the blond harbored an attraction to him until after this mission began.

"I..." he wanted to say it, wanted to reciprocate the declaration. Instead, he said something that he immediately regretted. "I'm not certain I know what love _is_ , Ronald."

"It's not exactly something I can explain, Will." Ronald sighed, "You just...feel it. It makes you feel like you could float away at times, or it could hit you painfully and you can hardly breathe from the pain of it..."

Ronald shifted and sat himself up, looking at William who was still between his legs, "When I started falling for you, Will, You wouldn't get out of my head. You were always there in my thoughts, distracting me as I began to wonder the stupidest things about you. Like, what flavor toothpaste you use, or how often you have to shave to keep your face free of whiskers, or if you prefer baths or showers and whichever it is, if you like them in the morning or at night. My thoughts were constant and rather annoying. They got me into trouble a few times."

He sighed, "But it's different for everyone, I hear."

William nearly smiled again. "If only you knew how often I've found myself leering at you when your back was turned, Ronald."

The last time his thoughts had been so consumed with one individual, it was the Undertaker. That was what confused William the most, really. He thought he'd been infatuated with him—a thing which rarely occurred with him, if at all. Upon meeting up with him again though, he finally understood what that was all about. He'd craved the ancient's approval and company, but he'd never had erotic dreams about him and while he found him fascinating and beautiful in an aesthetic way, he'd never thought of kissing him. Knox was another matter, though. He found the boy's every smile, every action and every impetuous word charming. He'd never admitted as much to him before because the last thing he wanted was to be accused of sexually harassing a subordinate, but...

William lowered his mouth to Ronald's again to kiss him deeply. He still couldn't say for certain if this was love, being deprived of such affection for most of his life. It was certainly attraction and affection beyond all doubt, though. He thought of how desperate he'd been to get Ronald off of that landmine without blowing him to pieces, and how relieved he'd been when they succeeded in that. It was more than alarm for a comrade. There were feelings there, and he intended to explore them further.

Ronald smirked, his hands sliding over William's exposed skin, "I take it you liked what you saw." he hummed against Will's kiss-swollen lips, "I wish I could have caught you looking. Maybe I would have confessed to you much sooner."

The blond let his gaze wander down to take in the sight of William atop him before moving back up to the brunet's face and to his glasses sliding down his nose. He chuckled and reached up to push them back into place, "Better view of me if your glasses aren't falling off." he teased.

William quite agreed, on both accounts. He kissed the blond's jaw and throat leisurely, running his tongue over the smooth skin before pressing his lips against it and sucking gently. "Mmm. Pity we cannot remain this way for the rest of the evening." He sighed and enjoyed the moment while it lasted. Heavens knew they both needed that release, but he did not intend to repeat such an intimate encounter again until all of this was finished and he could properly date Ronald. He feared that the next time, he might not be able to stop at touching. Now that he'd sampled Ronald's sensuality, he knew it would quickly become addictive...and irresistible.

He shifted a bit on top of the younger reaper and he kissed his way down to his chest, taking his time in the afterglow to revel in their closeness. He felt the slippery evidence of their completion against his skin, but he was hardly bothered by it. A quick shower and a change of clothes would easily take care of that, and they could do their own laundry to avoid any embarrassing instance of others figuring out what they'd been up to.

"Mm, to be continued?" Ronald suggested with a slight moan to his voice. The feel of William's lips upon his skin wouldn't allow his fires to cool just yet, though he'd been quite satisfied with what they had done together. He couldn't help it. As Reapers went, he was still young and full of hormones. On previous sexual ventures, he'd found that he often couldn't help but give in to the pleasure...and with William, it only got worse. William had lit his fires quickly and even afterwards, he seemed to know how to keep them going. If William was going to do such things as this to him, he wasn't going to complain. Especially with the promise of actual dates once the war was ended, or at least, when they are relieved of their duty in Germany. It was all so much more than he ever dreamed would actually happen.

He ran his fingers through William's hair as the man left a trail of kisses down his chest, "Continue to just hold each other and sneak kisses here and there until we drift off to sleep, once we get back from meeting with Undertaker."

William's lips curved into a suggestion of a smile against the smooth skin. "Of course. I shan't disagree with such a suggestion."

He sighed and he eased off of Ronald, rolling onto his side. While he was quite familiar with erotic interactions with a partner, simply holding them was still new to him. He dug his phone out of his disheveled jacket and he set an alarm to go off in a couple of hours, before setting the device aside on the nightstand. That done, put one arm around Ronald and he drew him close, shutting his eyes. "We may nap for a while, and then we should shower and get ready for our meeting with the Undertaker."

Ronald kicked off the single sock that had stayed on throughout their heated ordeal before grabbing a shirt and using it to clean up the blunt of their mess. He then tossed it aside and rolled onto his side, slipping his top arm around William and kissing him, "Sounds like a great idea to me. Oh-! Glasses!" He said, remembering that they were on his face. He'd made the mistake of sleeping in them once. Bent his frames and boy, did Anderson have a lecture for him while he fixed them! That was not something he wished to repeat.

He pulled away from William just long enough to set his glasses aside, also placing William's safely on the night stand before they curled up once more.

William allowed the blond to remove his glasses, before snuggling him and trying to put aside thoughts of what his next encounter with his former mentor would bring for them both. With the Undertaker, there really was no telling.

* * *

-To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

The Undertaker paced amongst the overgrowth in the cemetery as he waited for his former apprentice to show with his boyish companion. Suppose William didn't show up...what then? He shrugged. No matter. He could go on alone. He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd offered to share what he knew with the lad in the first place. This foe could be handled with the proper wit and preparation, after all. Wasn't as though he _needed_ Will's help to deal with it.

"But my dollies can only provide so much conversation," he mused to himself, dragging his nails over a broken headstone absently. "William's so much more interesting."

It occurred to him that he spent more time talking to himself and the dead than he did with other living beings, and the mortician laughed softly to himself. "Ah, how disappointed he must be."

For some reason that notion bothered him a bit, and the Undertaker paused and cocked his head, his smile freezing on his lips. Yes...he'd gone from a legendary Dispatch agent to this broken and twisted creature that he was now. Mayhap William was sincere in his desire to help him, but Undertaker valued his freedom as much as the next person.

"What's broken with me can't be easily mended, m'boy," he muttered with a sigh. William was a stubborn sort, though. He'd keep on pushing for it no matter how Undertaker warned him against it. That young reaper with the dual-toned blond and black hair seemed to be more aware of that fact than William himself was. For a moment, the ancient felt a stab of regret and he considered the tension he'd sensed in his previous student.

"Careful, Willy," he whispered. "Dwelling too much could put you into the state I'm in now."

The thought did not amuse him.

* * *

After getting startled awake by his alarm, William practically dragged his protesting companion into the shower and he helped him to change into a fresh uniform. Once they were dressed, he took a deep breath, put on his hat and assured that he had all he needed on him. "I believe we are ready to depart, Ronald," he said as he straightened his officer's cap. "What say you?"

"I say my pillow is calling my name." The drowsy boy replied with a yawn. Waking up was not an easy or simple task for Ronald. Once he was asleep, he enjoyed being asleep—which contrasted with how he'd usually avoid sleep for the thrill of a party or date.

But they had work to do, and he knew that that took priority. He sighed and rubbed his eye under his glasses. "Okay, lets get this over with so I can finish my date in dreamland."

William chose not to lecture him for what he perceived as a lazy attitude, having grown used to Ronald's love affair with sleep. They left their lodgings and traversed the realms to make their way to the cemetery where the Undertaker supposedly would be waiting for them. There was an ill-favored feeling in the air...a tension that William couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something. Perhaps it was just his own quiet anxiety making him imagine it, however.

As they neared the stone fencing of the graveyard, William heard a moan that gave rise to goosebumps, and he summoned his death scythe without a second thought. A figure came shuffling toward the broken gate, moving in a disjointed manner that was becoming all too familiar to William. It was one of the Undertaker's zombies, and he kept his scythe ready and watched it warily as it approached them gracelessly.

"Keep your distance," he warned the creature, but it didn't appear to be making any aggressive moves. It was male, and it opened its mouth to speak as it stopped before the two reapers. Drool glistened on its lips and chin as it spoke in a gurgling voice.

"Master says...you follow me," said the doll.

"Second thoughts on meeting us in the place he wanted to meet us?" Ronald sighed, "after leading us to that pub just to lead us here to lead us someplace else... I feel like we are following bread crumbs, Will. What do you think? Follow it or reap it?"

He twirled his scythe in his fingers then rested it on his shoulder. "Luckily this one doesn't seem to want to make us dinner."

"I believe," said William cautiously as the apparition began to turn and shuffle off back into the graveyard, "it may be leading us to the Undertaker's direct location within this cemetery. Keep your guard up and follow with me, Ronald."

"You...don't think it's a trap, do you?" Ronald asked, eyeing the doll. He didn't trust it—or the Undertaker, but he did trust William. So if William thought it was safe, then he'd be less jumpy, at least.

"As unpredictable as the Undertaker can be," murmured William as he began to follow the doll, "I think it would be contrary to his own interests to lure us into a trap. He knows that I always keep my word, so he has no reason to believe we are trying to lead Dispatch to him for his arrest. I said that we would refrain from trying to bring him in until after this is finished, and I meant that. Whether this meeting will be productive or not is anyone's guess, however."

Ronald took a deep breath and sighed, following a half step behind William, "If you trust him to keep up his end, then I'll trust him," he stated as they weaved their way between the tombs. "Still don't like how our escort is a dead guy...wish he would have met us himself to lead us deeper in if he wanted to be someplace specific."

"I feel this is a test," postulated William in a low voice. He stepped over a broken headstone, keeping his eyes on their guide and his hands on his scythe. "Death was always fond of testing me...seeing what I was made of. Perhaps he presumed we would change our minds about this meeting when presented with a living corpse as a guide."

It seemed logical to William. Undertaker would want to demonstrate once more the sort of minions he was working with, both to give them a last chance to back out and to determine whether they had the gumption to keep going. The bizarre doll came up to a tomb with a broken chain on the door, and he pulled said door open with a jarring creak of rusty hinges. Looking back at them with blank, dead eyes, the creature gestured and shuffled inside. The golden flicker of a torch set into the wall dimly lit the tomb's entry, and there were stairs leading down into the ground. With a glance at his partner, William shrugged stoically and followed the doll.

It led them into a basement level burial chamber, and there sitting on a marble coffin was the Undertaker. He was busily examining some documents, and he glanced up when they entered the burial chamber. "Go stand over there and be quiet," he bid his minion with a nod toward the open chambers in the wall, each filled with dusty human remains. He smiled at his guests and he set aside the paperwork. "Well now, you came after all. I s'pose that's a good thing."

William loosened his collar a bit, glancing around at distaste. "A rather unusual place to conduct a meeting, sir."

The mortician chuckled and hopped off the sarcophagus. "Not for me, William."

The brunet inclined his head, conceding. "I suppose not. I would have much preferred a room at an inn, however."

"Have you had a look at the lodgings 'round here?" Undertaker snorted. "Trust me, it wouldn't have been much better than this. Now, I know you chaps have some questions and I've got a few of my own, so let's get started, yeah?"

"Indeed." William stepped closer to his former mentor, his eyes flicking briefly to the motionless doll at the back of the chamber. "Do you know who or what is behind the rash of blank records? I know that you have been following them, but you have not explained what it's all about."

"Hmm." Undertaker tapped his nails against his chin. "I do know a thing or two, but it's a might hard t' explain it in a way you'll believe. Ever heard of a leiche, boy?"

William's brow furrowed. Yes, he was familiar with the German word for "corpse", but they were currently surrounded by such things. "I fail to understand what the dead have to do with my question, sir...other than having their records wiped."

"Ah, but you know the legends behind it, don't you?" Undertaker rubbed his pale hands together. "I'm not talking about your common dead body or even my dollies. We'd call it 'lich' in English. Ring a bell at all?"

William thought back to some of the lessons he'd had in the academy. Folklore was a part of it, because some creatures of legend actually did exist and Dispatch required agents to have some knowledge of them. "An undead necromancer?" he asked with a doubtful frown.

The Undertaker raised a finger and nodded. "Kewpie doll for the gentleman."

"But sir, that makes no sense," argued William respectfully. "The suspect has not been _raising_ the dead. It has been erasing their cinematic records."

"Well, that's where history went wrong," explained the mortician. "The only dead they actually 'raise' are themselves. They stash their souls in a phylactery so they can't be killed unless it's destroyed, right? That's the first bit of necromancy there."

"Then what is it doing with the records?"

Undertaker sighed. "Ah, there's the question, eh? Those folklore books didn't part with a lot of information on how these buggers feed." He shrugged. "Now we know."

"Wait-wait-wait just a second. Are you saying that a dead guy raised himself and is now acting like a demon by consuming souls?" Ronald interjected, crossing his arms. "Whatever for? What purpose? I was under the impression that those guys existed to raise an army of the dead to attempt creating an Apocalypse and throw off the balance of life and death. But here you are saying it is just walking around eating soul records? Doesn't really seem that big of a deal to me."

The mortician blinked at the boy. "Not a big deal? Son, I'd say devouring the memories of the dead is more than a tiny thing. It's not so different from soul consumption, like you said. You were on the right track with that. Problem is, even if you leave the soul intact, what's left once you've destroyed all the things that made that soul who and what it was? Nothing but an empty shell, that's what. You're left with a ghost that has no memories, no personality and no inkling of where to go in the afterlife. A blank slate."

The mortician shrugged again. "Might have been kinder for a demon to eat them, if you ask me. It makes it easier for me to make dollies out of this fellow's victims, but their souls might as well be kaput. My friend over there was one of 'em, y' see." He nodded at the doll across the chamber. "When his body gives up eventually, his soul is going to wander, with nothing to contribute to the vaults or the afterlife. That's where the apocalypse comes in, m'dear. Too many empty souls haunting the afterlife and that balance you just spoke of goes 'poof'. At least my original dollies still have their records intact. When they go, they'll still be themselves, understand?"

"You mean... wait..." Ronald paused, trying to process the information. "Okay, so it's making an army of blank ghosts that will wander around as we can't collect them, but their souls aren't eaten, just their records are...but your Dolls are not the same because they still have their records or something? I'm confused. I thought that your dolls were bodies that already had their souls collected. Back on the ship when Grell and I were fighting them, no records spilled out to be collected. They just...went back to being dead. I thought you put like, fake records in them to make them move?"

"I altered their records," corrected the mortician, "and it's not so easy to draw out their records if you don't know how to. Either way, their memories up 'till their deaths are still in there. It's when the reel is s'posed to end that the alterations come in and loop them. 'Twas quite a feat to perfect the process, you know, and I'm still perfecting it even now. Why, I can make dollies so lifelike they can't be detected for what they truly are, until it's too late."

He grinned at the two of them. "In fact, I've got a couple in the Nazi ranks right now, keeping an eye on things for me. Isn't that marvelous?"

"Quite," said William without enthusiasm. "Now, back to the alleged lich. Where did the creature come from? Dispatch has never actually dealt with one of them before to my knowledge, which gives rise to the belief that they never truly existed."

"Oh, they've existed in the past, all right," assured the Undertaker. His eyes became distant as he recalled old memories. "I've dealt with one or two before, in fact. The board didn't put it on public record. You'd have to dig in the top confidential files to find those. Nasty bit of business, that was, but both of those cases happened a terribly long time ago—back in the time of the pharaohs, and again some two hundred years later. They're really quite rare, and neither of the two I encountered were as powerful as this one."

"I see," murmured William, and he made a mental note to try and get access to those restricted files at some point, to confirm the truth or falsity of Undertaker's claims. "But how did this one come to be? If he is so powerful, where has he been for all this time? We should have gotten reports of these blank records before now, I imagine."

"He's new."

William frowned at the ancient. "I beg your pardon?"

Undertaker huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "He hasn't been around long, William. That's why you've just started seeing the evidence. What is a leiche, chap? We just went over it a bit ago."

"A mortal that stores his soul in a phylactery so that he or she can achieve everlasting life," sighed William. "So what you are saying is that this creature was once human and recently resurrected itself as a leiche?"

"Something like that," agreed the Undertaker. The next comment was muffled by his sleeve and he coughed. "Mmft had somefin t' do wif it."

"Could you repeat that last part, sir? Your sleeve was muffling your words."

Undertaker cleared his throat and for a moment, he almost looked sheepish. "I said I might have had something to do with it."

William exchanged a confused look with Ronald. "With what? The leiche raising itself?"

Undertaker sighed and gestured at the documents on the stone coffin. "Bloke got his hands on some of my research notes, and he stole one of my books from the reaper realm. It had all the information he needed, and he was quite the brilliant scientist. He's the one that commissioned me to come work for the axis, you see. I took him up on it out of curiosity, but then I decided I wasn't going to go along with it quite like they thought. Sometime after I came here, the good doctor disappeared with those notes and that book. I caught a glimpse of him after the empty records started showing up, and there's no doubt in my mind he's our leiche."

"You— _lost_ confidential reaper knowledge? You left it sitting where a human could just snatch it up without your knowing until suddenly we have a problem on our hands?" Ronald scolded, sounding entirely too much like William as he did so. "Why haven't you _reported_ this to the council? We've been going _crazy_ trying to figure out what in the world has been going on!"

Undertaker frowned at him, and William quickly inserted himself between the two of them. "My partner makes a valid point, Undertaker. This could have been dealt with much sooner, if you had but contacted Dispatch and let them know of it."

The mortician pursed his lips briefly and he leaned back against the coffin, his eyes flashing beneath his pale bangs. "I didn't know for sure myself, until I saw him again. It took a bit of investigating on my part to work out the truth of it myself, and by then you lot showed up...so in principle, I _did_ contact Dispatch. You two are here talking with me about it now, aren't you?"

William sighed. "Yes we are, but I shall have to report this to our superiors, Undertaker. They must know what is going on. I could leave out your involvement in the birth of this creature, but the board _needs_ to know what it is that we are dealing with. If the documentation leading up to the creature's transformation has not been destroyed, it would be in everyone's better interest to retrieve it from him before dispatching him. I shudder to think of this knowledge making it into the hands of other ambitious mortals. Ridding the world of this one will avail us nothing, if he passes the technique onto others before he can be stopped."

William had never considered himself to be a very imaginative reaper, but he could easily visualize the crisis they'd have on their hands if more lich's sprung up all across the country. It could become and epidemic that could lead to a catastrophe, if they failed to nip this in the bud soon enough.

"I, erm," Ronald rubbed the back of his neck and sighed as he peeked around William at Undertaker, "I wasn't trying to accuse you of much, sir... I just call it as I see it. You got sloppy, but at least you're trying to correct it, yeah?"

Undertaker shrugged. "In my own odd way, yes. The question is whether you two are up to the challenge. I'm not sure of this chap's abilities yet, 'cause he keeps slipping through my bony old fingers. I think I could deal with him on my lonesome, but the problem is _finding_ the bloody thing and keeping him found, y' see? I reckon with three of us on the hunt, the chance of closing in on him and boxing him in will be better. I just don't know what to tell you to expect, once we _do_ get him cornered. I think he can manipulate the local weather, for one thing. If he's anything like the others I've run into in the past, he also commands the chill. He'd definitely have some arcane talents to boot, though every lich I've encountered is a li'l different from the last. I've a theory that what they can do depends on what they were like in life."

"And what is this creature's name, sir?" queried William. "Or rather, what was it in life?"

"Ah, that would be doctor Oswald Becker. Like I said, the fellow got wind of my work with the dollies and he offered me the job. Had I known he'd steal my documents and figure out how to turn himself into a leiche with it, I'd have probably declined."

"Only probably?" Ron asked. He sighed and looked around the grim little room. "How are you tracking him? We were only able to track you and we just keep finding random soulless bodies on the way. If we know how you do it, we can do the same. Also, how do we kill it? Can we dispatch him or do we have to find his... what did you call it? The... _thingy_ he put his soul in so he can't die. If that's the case, shouldn't we be searching for where he hid it and take care of him that way?"

"The phylactery," answered the mortician, "and yes, it has to be destroyed before he can be. As for how to track him, I've got certain methods aside from following the trail of buggered up records. I'm very in touch with the dead, you know. What I can't find for myself, they usually help with. You just need to understand how to commune with 'em, is all."

Will sighed. "And how do we achieve that, sir?"

Undertaker grinned at him. "Go mad. They're attracted to the insane. Most of those voices that people in madhouses claim to hear are actually the voices of the dead."

"I'd rather not be a loon. I'm too young and sexy for that!" Ron crossed his arms.

"Insanity is a path I'd rather not traverse myself, if I can help it," William agreed. "We shall simply have to employ other methods to track down this lich. Has he any known patterns that we might use to our advantage? Any preference in prey?" He considered the bodies that they'd come across with the empty reels, and he couldn't see anything distinguishing between them but perhaps the Undertaker had some insight on that.

"Tends to pick the young ones," explained the Undertaker. "Not _too_ young, mind. I haven't run across any children he's fed on, but he seems to have a taste for folk around Knox's age, most of all. The funny thing is he's only gone after the ones destined to die anyhow, so either he's found some way to access the death lists or he senses their demise coming."

Ronald shivered at that. "I'm liking this guy less and less. Uh-these things only target...humans, right?" he asked, nervously. He didn't want to become a blank little reaper-ghost.

Undertaker grimaced. "Most of the time. Not to say they can't develop a taste for reapers, because it's happened before. The first one I went after in Egypt killed a couple of agents from London Dispatch that were there to investigate, and that's when they sent me in. He bit off more than he could chew with 'em though. Their records were only half devoured." He scratched his chin in thought. "So far this one doesn't seem to have a liking for our kind, though. He's been going after mortal deceased, so just don't die on the job and tempt him to try reaper as a meal."

"I should hope not." William found the possibility just as alarming as Ronald did. As terrible as it was for mortals to have their existence more or less wiped out, he'd always been distant from it. Demons could not devour reaper souls, and mortals were lesser beings. To discover there existed a creature out there that could do such a thing to his kind was disconcerting, at best.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better." Ron muttered, "I just may look tasty to him and if he sees me helping to try to take him down...may not matter that I'm still alive. I'd rather go after his phylactery-thing. Maybe if we can find his life-book we can find where he hid it. Or at least get some ideas."

"I have no way to track that down yet," said the Undertaker, "and he's not likely to tell us if we catch him, so finding it could be tricky. I scoured the tombs of his hometown as soon as I discovered what he'd done, but I didn't find anything. Chances are he keeps it locked away somewhere hidden, if he's not carrying it around with him. Seeing as he was quite the intelligent bloke in life, I don't think he'd risk keeping it on his person. Hmm."

William frowned in thought. "You said he was a doctor. Would he be in the habit of keeping notes? Perhaps if we could locate them, we might find a clue of where he's hidden it. He wouldn't want to risk forgetting where he put his own soul, I imagine."

"No, he wouldn't," agreed the mortician, "but neither would he be careless enough to blatantly put it into writing where he keeps it. He wouldn't leave that door open for others to find. If anything, he'd have the information encrypted. It'd be in some form of code he devised to make it less likely anyone reading it would know what they're really looking at, y' see."

"Or...life-book." Ronald repeated with a grunt, "Seriously, it has his entire life recorded in it. If he hid it while he was alive and not a necromancer, it'll be there in writing! Plus, He was human, right? so he wouldn't know that Reapers have libraries of human lives and deaths and all that! It's worth a try, right?"

"There's only one problem with that, lad." Undertaker held a finger up. "When a mortal turns itself into a leiche, the books get muddled. It's an unnatural thing that goes against the natural order, and when that happens, it changes the events according to how the leiche sees it. They're in defiance of the balance and the laws of nature, so whether they do it on purpose or not, they warp their own life records once they make the transformation. Since the life book only records life and the leiche is now willfully undead, the text gets corrupted. What you read in their life book isn't usually the truth of it, 'cause of this. Its part of what makes them so dangerous, this un-life they lead."

"A bit like your 'dolls'," observed William shrewdly.

Undertaker stammered a bit, defensive. "I'm not on trial, here!"

"Not yet," sighed William. "Regardless, I am sure there is a grain of truth to be found in the life book, even if the creature has managed to warp his to suit his own agenda, as you allege. I believe it's worth investigation. If nothing else, it may provide us with some small clue as to where he has hidden the phylactery."

"Thank you!" Ron said, grateful that his suggestion wouldn't be completely ignored. His being so young often times made older reapers ignore him as his experience in life was still lacking. And it made him feel a little useless to investigations he was assigned to. And on this investigation, he was partnered up with the man he loved, and the man that his lover idolized. He was sure he'd take a more emotional blow to rejection if all his suggestions had been brushed aside like they had been in past assignments before the war. He'd hate to be the unwanted and unneeded third wheel.

"Goodness, he's like a puppy," chuckled the Undertaker. "He really likes you, Willy. Reminds me a bit of the way you were when—"

"Very good, sir," interrupted William before the Undertaker could dredge up an embarrassing account of how desperate for approval he'd been when he was around Ronald's age. "If you would be so kind as to continue tracking the lich, I think that Knox and I should spend the day tomorrow seeking out the creature's life book and going through it. It would not due to lose the trail, and we may find something useful in his records, even if they are corrupted."

"Hm, not a bad plan," grunted the mortician. He pushed away from the coffin and glided over to the wall of human remains. For a moment he swayed on his feet, looking vaguely entranced. William cringed inwardly at the sight, well-aware of how strange it was and hoping he wouldn't hear more criticism of his former mentor from Ronald.

After several minutes, the Undertaker stood in silence, head cocked as if listening to someone only he could hear. Uncomfortable with his behavior, William politely cleared his throat. "Sir?"

The mortician gave a little start and he turned to look at his guests. "Oh! Ah, so sorry about that. I was listening to _them_ , y' see." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the open chambers.

William covertly covered his mouth and nose in a cough. The dank smell of decay down here was starting to make him queasy. "As you say, sir. Do we have an accord?"

"Oh yes," agreed the Undertaker with a nod that made his top-hat slide a little on his head. He righted it. "You two kiddies best be off to get some rest, then. I'll be in touch, and we can meet up again later to tell each other what we've found."

William hesitated. "And how do you plan to 'be in touch'? How will we reach you when we return?"

The ancient grinned. "My dollies, of course! I'll leave this fellow here if I leave the area before you return, and he'll tell you where to go next. If I'm not there then you'll find another dollie in the nearest convenient graveyard to give you my next location. Easy peasy."

William somehow avoided making a face. "What a...convenient and grotesque messaging system you've come up with. Very well, I suppose there is no help for it. We shall work as quickly as possible and meet up with you again to report what we've found...or haven't."

Undertaker waved a hand, his long sleeve flapping. "Right-o. Until next time, then."

William sighed and he nudged his companion, ready to get out of this tomb.

"Oh, just a moment, William."

The brunet paused as his former mentor crept across the floor, practically looming over him. He took a half a step back, disconcerted. "What is it?"

Undertaker looked around as if making sure nobody was watching—which was absurd—and then he leaned in to whisper in William's ear. "About that madness I mentioned before: If the voices start talking to you, don't answer. Shut them out."

William stared at him. "I...will remember that."

Undertaker smiled, backed off a bit and patted his arm. "Of course you will. You were my best and brightest student. Good evening to you, Willy."

William swallowed, suffering a blend of emotions ranging from fear to nostalgia. "And to you, sir. Until we meet again."

Giving a stiff little bow, William followed after Ronald and he nearly took the steps two at a time. Once they were outside in the fresh night air again, he muttered to Ronald: "While we are in our realm, I'm getting that man a mobile phone."

"You think he'll know how to use one, 'Willy'?" Ronald teased with a chuckle. Undertaker didn't seem to ever have reaper technology with him other than his scythe, after all. "Why does he call you that, anyway? The nickname doesn't _quite_ suit you."

William cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Once upon a time, it might have. He is the only being in the realms to ever call me by that nickname, and I would appreciate it if you would keep it between us. As for the phone, we can tutor him on how to use it. I'd much rather get a call from him than have more dialog with his walking corpses...wouldn't you agree?"

Ronald nodded, "Phone, or at least carrier pidgins." he agreed. "And don't worry, 'Willy' stays between us. I prefer 'Will', myself. Especially after you had me screaming it out earlier this evening!" he smirked playfully, stepping closer and whispering, "I look forward to you making me do so again sometime."

William's face heated at the memory, though not out of embarrassment. He would like nothing more than to make Ronald call his name like that again and again. It was certainly a prettier thought than dealing with this leiche—or lich, and conversing with the dead. He put thoughts of Undertaker's grim warning about imaginary voices out of his head, and he allowed himself the pleasure of putting an arm around Ronald to give him a brief squeeze.

"I fully intend to comply with that wish, when things have settled down."

Ronald glanced over his shoulder at the tomb they had just climbed out of to make sure no elder reaper eyes were watching before he smiled and popped onto his toes to press a kiss to William's lips, "I can hardly wait." he whispered.

He then sighed. They had reports for the day to turn in, still. "We should head back and finish work up so we can get back to bed. I'd like to finish my dreams before we have to get up in the morning."

"Indeed," conceded William, resisting the urge to pull Ronald up against him and give him a deeper kiss in response to the smooch. "We've a lot of work ahead of us, so best we finish those reports quickly."

He wondered what tomorrow would bring, and he hoped that the board would not inadvertently interfere with his and Ronald's investigation by assigning more reapers to it. He would insist that they give him the opportunity to try and deal with the situation before putting more agents onto it. He didn't need the added strain of trying to conceal his collaboration with the Undertaker from prying eyes.

* * *

William's hopes were dashed the next morning, when he and Ronald arrived at reaper London headquarters and he was called to the head of the board's office before they could even begin to seek out Becker's life book. He sighed after getting off the phone with his superior. "Ronald, I must go to discuss things with the board. You should go to the library as planned and find that life book. Please remember not to mention the Undertaker unless someone directly asks you, and if they do, just say that he escaped before we could question him."

It wasn't exactly a lie, as that was what initially happened. There was no need to confess their later meeting with him at this point. He would deal with the consequences of keeping that from the board later. The top priority right now was to track down the lich's stored soul and destroy it before too much further damage occurred.

Ronald nodded, "I won't be able to start reading it, though. So try to hurry so you can translate what it says." Because the Lich was German, and his life-book was in the German Great Library, the text would naturally be in German.

With a salute, Ronald turned and hurried off to start his search.

* * *

Some time later, William transferred back to the Berlin division and he met up with Ronald in the library. He was at least pleased to see that the blond had already found the life book they were after, but his mood was soured by his meeting with the head of his board. He joined Ronald at the research table and he spoke in a low voice.

"They wish to assign Sutcliff to assist with the investigation," he informed, "even though he is currently on a reaping assignment with Jeffries. I pointed that out, and they suggested Slingby and Humphries. Idiots!"

He compressed his lips with annoyance. "I won't have some desk squatter that knows nothing about actual reaping handling my department whilst I am away. I believe I have convinced them for now to allow us to handle this until I deem it necessary to bring more agents into it, but it would not surprise me if we soon have Sutcliff to deal with, as well as all this."

"Well," Ronald slid the life book over to William as he was the one who'd be able to read it, "At least if they do force Grell, Eric, or Alan on us, we know we'll be working with someone we can trust with the whole Undertaker part of this thing." He said, looking for a silver lining in the situation should the council deem it a necessity that they have help sooner than when William deemed it so. "But we totally should have asked Undertaker last night when this guy's birth year had been. Would have made it easier to find this book. I spent so much time searching the catalog for his name in all the possible birth years. I started to think you'd appear behind me before I found it! I actually just sat down maybe three minuets ago with this thing." he patted the cover of the book.

"Undertaker was right, though. I don't even have to read German to know this thing is a bit of a mess. The text is discolored, faded, miss-aligned, spaced, smushed, and morphed into a completely different hand-writing than the easy-to-read default that all life books are recorded in. Good luck reading it. hopefully you can." Ronald rested his chin on the palm of his hand and propped his elbow on the table.

William opened up the book and adjusted his glasses. His eyes scanned over the pages as he turned them and a frown of growing intensity graced his lips. His brows furrowed as he peered at one particular passage and he whispered the translation aloud.

" _August twelfth, 1926: Oswald licked a...hat._ "

He scowled a bit and tried to make sense of the rest of the passage. His face flushed and his eyes widened a bit, before he closed the book abruptly. "Well then...I think that we should seek out a private alcove for this to be decoded, Ronald. I don't fancy the thought of any of these strangers passing by and glancing over my shoulder whilst I am trying to find something coherent in this madness."

"...Something dirty on that page?" Ronald smirked, eyeing the slight flush to the man's cheeks, "Man, I've heard of boot fetishes, but hat fetishes? That's just awkward if you ask me." He stood up and looked around, "Maybe we could sign out use of one of those rooms?" he pointed.

William looked in that direction and he nodded. "Excellent idea. Let's go to the librarian's desk and arrange that, then."

He got up and he tucked the book under his arm as he approached the man sitting at the cataloguing desk. He made the request, explained who they were and he showed them his Dispatch identification. It took a little while for the librarian to clear it, but after a few moments on his computer he gave the nod and handed a keycard over to William, explaining that use of the private study rooms were restricted to one hour only. William bit back a sigh and thanked him, wondering if he could find anything of worth in this volume in sixty minutes.

Once he and Ronald were in the study room, William sat down in one of the cushy chairs and opened the book again, flipping back to where he'd left off. "Either this man is a substantial pervert, or this is all nonsensical babble that randomly appeared in this life book."

He grimaced a little as he went back to the passage that had so disturbed him. "There is a reference to him sniffing hair...and then it falls into complete gibberish again for the next five years...save some vague accounts of research. After that...well...after that..."

William became uncomfortable again and he cleared his throat.

"Man, I wish I could help read it." Ron muttered, cradling his chin in his palm, "I might be better at the dirty stuff. It'd be like being a student overhearing things in the common rooms all over again."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Maybe try just skimming over it for like, anything that sounds suspicious. Like mentions of Undertaker, or locations that seem to be mentioned a lot. Locations that hold importance to the guy might not have been too muddled with nonsense."

William looked down at the book in his hands again and his lips thinned. "Yes well, this entire thing appears suspicious to me. I must take the time to go over the passages that catch my attention. Ronald, would you mind bringing coffee from the machine that I saw in the main lobby? I fear I have some notes to take, and this may become a long night."

One hour simply would not be enough. He would make use of the privacy while he had it, but William suspected he was going to be working on this for much longer than that.

"Sure." Ronald pushed himself up. "Want anything else while I go down there playing errand-boy? Creampuffs? A potato? ...a box of tissues?" he teased at the end, his hand on the door knob.

"Order a pizza," answered William with a smirk. "If you can manage that here, then I'll make certain you get a promotion and bonus pay when we return home."

"Somehow order a pizza in German. Got it." Ronald muttered, trying to think of how to achieve such a feat. Maybe he'd get lucky and the pizza guy would speak English or Italian? He might as well try that first before getting the coffee. It wouldn't do to deliver cold coffee to William who was trying to do very important work for their investigation. He was of little help to this step and he didn't want to disappoint on simple coffee-runs.

It took him a few tries at different pizza places, but finally, he found one that happened to have an Italian cook on staff who was able to take his call and order. Then he finally made up William's requested coffee, and a tea for himself before heading back to the private room they had use of.

"Pizza's on it's way." he said, setting Will's drink on the table for him and sitting down across from him on the plush chair.

William looked up from the tome he was reading and he blinked, suspecting a prank. "You must be joking, surely."

"Nope. Pizza sounded good." Ronald shrugged, "And there is no rules against food in the library as long as we don't leave a mess, so why not?"

William's brows lifted. He honestly hadn't expected for Ronald to find anyplace that served or delivered pizza in this part of the world—let alone anywhere that he could interpret on his own. The blond was being so nonchalant about it, which made William continue to wonder if he was pranking him.

"Well done then," he finally said.

He reached for his coffee and he took a sip before resuming his earlier work with translating what little made sense of the life book. He tried to be conversational with his younger companion as he mulled over it and made notes, but he wasn't the most chatty reaper. Within the hour, a librarian came knocking on the door asking if they'd ordered a pizza. William was again amazed that his partner had procured one, and he thanked the librarian and got up to pay for the order when the delivery man stepped in. Fortunately, it came with napkins and he was able to conduct his research further without creating too much of a mess.

They were prompted to leave the study room shortly after the pizza arrived, and William chose a desk in the back of the main part of the library so that they would have at least partial privacy as he continued. It went on through the night, until Ronald fell asleep with his head cushioned in his folded arms. Unbeknownst to the comatose blond, William got up twice more to get coffee as he continued to plow through it. It was near sunrise when the Dispatch supervisor gently shook his companion awake and explained to him that he'd gotten all he could from the volume, and the two of them returned to their hotel room to crash into an exhausted sleep.

Some of the things William interpreted from the life book were disturbing indeed, but he needed to speak with his former mentor on that and be sure to emphasize that it was mostly his own interpretation.

* * *

-To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

With the help of the Bizarre Doll that the Undertaker left behind to direct them, William and Ronald caught back up with the retired reaper a couple of days later in Hanover, just west of Wolfsburg. Just as his servant had said, he was waiting for them in the graveyard.

"Another cemetery," sighed William as they trod the path up the hill to where they saw the Undertaker standing. "Of course...it had to be another cemetery."

"The man's a retired reaper who became an undertaker." Ronald pointed out, "I'd say he's obsessed with death and would find places like this comforting. I can't say I'm surprised... though I wouldn't mind a nice place where we could order something to drink."

"That would be preferable," muttered William in agreement. He quieted as they approached his old mentor, who was grinning as usual and leaning against a tombstone. William nodded in greeting at him. "Good evening, sir. Thank you for choosing a location that was easy to find...even though I am not fond of this setting."

Undertaker looked around with a slight frown. "What's not to like? It's a lovely, crisp evening and there aren't any nosey-bodies around to listen in."

William sighed, recalling the way the ancient had scoffed at his suggestion of procuring a room at an inn. "Very well. I've brought you something that will make communication between us easier." He reached into one of his jacket pockets to retrieve the mobile phone he'd picked up for him. "Please take this. I will show you how to operate it, and I've already put both mine and Knox's contact numbers into it so that you would not need to."

The mortician took the phone almost gingerly, his eyes flicking between the device and William. "What's wrong with the way I've been doing it?"

"This is simply more convenient for all, and it's faster," explained William, carefully avoiding mentioning that he thought the Undertaker's methods of communication were disgusting.

"I'm sure the way you have been doing it takes time." Ronald interrupted, "Mobile phones can send messages much faster. Especially if you are in a hurry to get out of the area. Think of it as... an instant carrier pigeon."

The Undertaker still didn't look very impressed, but he shrugged. "Far be it from me to split hairs over how we keep in touch under these circumstances. So show me how this gadget works, Willy."

William obliged him, counting on the mortician's inquisitive mind to make the operation of the device easier for him to understand. He and other modern reapers took technology for granted, they were so used to being around it. To teach someone that had never been exposed to it how to use it was a bit more daunting than he'd expected. It took more time than he'd anticipated to clarify everything and go through a bit of testing to be sure Undertaker had it down, but he practiced patience and he politely answered the elder's questions and corrected his mistakes. He included a slip of paper with the basic operating instructions so the Undertaker could refer to them if he needed a refresher.

"Well then," he said at last when he was satisfied that Undertaker could operate the phone, "that wasn't so painful. Now we can discuss our findings together. Before I ask about our quarry's recent activity, I have another question to ask of you."

Undertaker leaned against the tombstone again and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's on your mind?"

William took a deep breath as he retrieved his notes from a pocket, uncomfortable about this next part. "What was the manner of your relationship with the doctor before he stole your material and vanished?"

Undertaker looked a bit puzzled. "Manner? That's an odd question to ask."

William suppressed a grimace. "That is to say, were the two of you anything more than colleagues, sir?"

The mortician smirked. "If you're hinting that we might have shagged, the answer's no. I'm interested t' hear what brought this question about."

"A very dirty read of a life-book." Ronald smirked. William hadn't given him details other than the notes the man had written down, but he knew that William had gotten flustered about things a couple of times. Add that to the question William had just asked, and he could draw conclusions that the doctor's life book had hinted at an involvement with the old reaper.

"Man, no wonder you needed to take that twenty minuet break. I would have needed mind-bleach if I had suddenly found myself reading about my mentor doing the do with someone!" he smirked.

William flushed uncomfortably in spite of himself. "The life book was corrupted, but I had to be sure. If there was never anything of a sexual nature between the two of you, then I must assume that he at least entertained some fantasies of that notion."

Undertaker's pale face screwed up at that. "Here now, where are you getting that notion?"

"I took some notes of some key spots within the mess that was the life book that were more coherent than the rest of it," explained William. He offered the notes to the Undertaker. "You can look at them yourself if you can read them, though it may be a bit too dark out here to see the writing clearly."

"Especially without glasses." Ronald said, leaning against an old headstone and crossing his arms, "Hopefully his notes aren't all dead-ends."

William glanced at the phone still grasped in the Undertaker's other hand and an idea occurred to him. "Here...you can use the screen for light if you turn that on."

Undertaker took his advice and he held the notes up close as he shone the light from the phone on them to read the notes. He paused to push his bangs aside, revealing his intense eyes to view as he peered at the notes. After a moment, he made another face.

"Hat licking? Is that some sort of odd human fetish?"

"I wouldn't know...I never dated or slept with a human before." Ronald shrugged, "But I have heard stories of boot fetishes, so I figure it's like that, if it's a thing. Or maybe the guy just really likes your old hat."

"You think this is referencing _my_ hat?" Undertaker's brows went up, and he looked down at the writing again. "Where does it say that ?"

"It doesn't," admitted William. "One could assume it's meant for hats in general, but then I found other passages referring to more things that made me suspect it was all in reference to you. Please read on, sir."

The Undertaker gave a little shrug and continued to scan the notes. His lip squirmed after a moment and he flipped the page over to read more. His eyes widened a bit, then narrowed as he brought the paper closer to read a line again. He snorted.

"Hair sniffing? Caressing a scythe? This doesn't sound like Oswald at all. Are you sure you looked up the right life book?"

"Yes." Ronald crossed his arms stubbornly, "Took me a long time to find it while not being able to read German! The German Library also organizes things differently than England! Plus the text was all screwy! You said that it would be."

"Ronald made no mistake," agreed William. "This was the correct life book. Now then, it's quite possible the bits I took note of were simply a result of the records getting skewed, but if not, then I think you have a larger problem to address. Forgive me for speaking plainly, mentor, but your former associate seems afflicted with an obsession for you. Even if it is not romantic in nature, it bears consideration."

"' _Mentor_ ', eh?" Undertaker smirked. "Seems old habits die hard, Willy."

He looked through more of the notes and he shook his head, seeming perplexed. "Mayhap this is an ironic thing for me to say, but this is madness! He never gave me reason to think he was fantasizing about licking my hat, smelling my hair or…wait, what does this say?" He squinted at the writing on the second page.

William stepped closer to read what he was indicating, and he cleared his throat. "That would be ' _bathe in your sweat'_."

Undertaker's pale face screwed up. "Ew! That's even revolting to me!"

"The guy's creepy." Ronald nodded. "Even worse than Grell when he gets to talking about what he wants to do with people he's crushing on, and he has some fantasies I wish I hadn't had to hear." He shuddered. "Never know what types of guys are secretly thinking about you, I guess. But at least he doesn't mention wanting to drink your blood like a fine wine."

"I'd almost prefer that to bathing in my sweat," grumbled the mortician. "I work with corpses for a living and that's one of the most disturbing things I've been privy to in my life."

He glanced through the rest of the notes before handing them back over to William. "Nothing about a journal anywhere, eh?"

William shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Either the man never wrote one, or that information was buried under all of the chaos resulting from his transformation."

"Hmm, I see." The Undertaker pushed away from the tombstone he was leaning against. "Well then, the best we can do is keep tracking him. Even if we can't find his phylactery, there are ways to subdue him. Can't have him running around gobbling up mortal's memories and showing other folk how to become like him."

"Man, And I really hoped I had a great idea that'd help us, too." Ronald mumbled. He knew he and William hadn't seen any helpful information, but he'd hoped that Undertaker would have seen something they hadn't. The fact that there was still nothing meant that he'd only wasted their time with digging into the life-book.

"It _was_ a good idea," admitted the Undertaker with a shrug. "Worth a try, anyhow. I didn't really expect it to yield good results, but sometimes even a slim hope is better than none at all. Ah well, back to the drawing board."

"How do you propose we subdue this creature?" questioned William. "You said yourself that you aren't entirely certain of what he's capable of and what his weaknesses are."

"It's a hard thing to predict with a lich," agreed the mortician. "Like I said before: no two of them are exactly alike and the good doctor was already quite a brilliant chap before he did his little trick. Best advice I can give to anyone is not to underestimate him. Stay on your toes and don't get distracted when we finally catch up with him. As for how to subdue him, I've got a few tricks up my oversized sleeves, myself. Some things are universal, of course. Fire's always a weakness, and not even a lich is immune to damage from a death scythe. If we have to chop all the fellow's limbs off to keep him from escaping while we look for his phylactery, then that's what we'll do."

"Lovely," sighed William. "Have you any way to neutralize his abilities, should we capture him?"

"There's some runes we could use," answered the Undertaker. "In fact, I'm going to show you chaps how to make them properly. It's probably for the best, in case the two of you run into him when I'm not around."

"But, we have never seen this guy before. How will we know it's even him unless he's eating memories?" Ronald asked, "You know, if you aren't with us. Is there some physical aspect to tell him apart from humans? Like how reapers have our eyes and demons have black nails?"

The Undertaker glanced down at his hands with raised brows, pointedly looking at his own long black nails. "Er, right. Demons...nails. Anyhow, a lich gives off a chill, for a start. They also tend t' be smelly. Us reapers carry a subtle scent of death too, but a lich's scent is one more of decay...like rotting meat. I s'pose bathing regularly might help with that but the ones I've run into before didn't seem too fussed with personal hygiene. Oh, and the eyes will be cloudy, kind of like my dolls' but without that blank, vacant stare."

"So...follow our noses towards the smell of disgusting? Great... what fun." Ronald rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing this guy isn't going to be popular with the ladies or gents."

Undertaker chuckled. "Lichdom doesn't improve the love life, I imagine. I s'pose some folk are just more desperate for immortality than a good shag, though. I can give you lads a physical description of him, but I'm afraid I don't have a picture to share."

"A description will have to do then," sighed William. "Is there anything else of note that you could share with us that might enable us to track him down faster? Favorite haunts perhaps, or habits? Surely there must be something."

The mortician thought about it for a moment, and he leaned against the tombstone again. "Well, he's fond of operas, but I doubt he'll find any opera houses out here on the road. Best we can do for now is follow the trail of blank records 'till he settles somewhere more populated. He'll likely slip up and treat himself to a show, or meet up with some Nazi's to do more experiments. Filthy blighter knows some of my secrets now, after all. His talents aren't nearly as good as mine, but if he's low on funds, he could probably sell them to interested parties along the way."

"...I'm hoping you mean like, funeral services." Ron muttered. He didn't know what all the man could do, and frankly, what he did know was enough for him.

Undertaker smirked. "Not so much. Think more along the lines of unethical medical practices. Doctor Becker is quite familiar with the human brain, and some of our research together inspired him a bit, I imagine. Picture him selling the idea of the perfect minions to the axis, Mr. Knox. Rather than eliminate the 'filth' of gypsies, Jewish folk and anyone else that offends them, he could probably sell the idea of turning them into slavish soldiers to the Nazi's. Who better to go after their own people, yeah?"

William made a disgusted sound. "Revolting."

Undertaker looked at him and he smiled, tilting his head. "Does it tickle your fine sensibilities, chap? The thought of your countrymen using the rabble to help kill off their own kind?"

Stiffening, William narrowed his eyes at him. "What did you expect, sir? The very idea is cowardly, regardless of whether it's done by mortal hands or not."

"Hmm, yes," agreed the older reaper. "It's tough to hold onto that neutrality we're all so staunchly taught to practice. When you see the evil that men do and you run out of excuses for it? 'Course it wears on the soul."

"Do you have to bring that kind of topic up?" Ronald scowled. He pushed himself up to walk closer to William.

"Why not?" questioned the madman with a white-toothed grin. "I'm just speaking the facts, boy. Your superior knows that better than most."

William steeled himself against the effects of his former mentor's words. "Regardless of intention, the subject matter bears no importance to our goals. If you wish to discuss the roads that lead to madness, Undertaker, please do us all the favor of saving it for a more appropriate time—preferably after we have dealt with this lich."

Undertaker sighed as if put out by William's rejection of his theories, but he shrugged. "Suit yourself, my lad. I'm only trying to look out for your better interests."

"How?" demanded William. "By baiting me? Contrary to what you may think, I am not so inclined to join you in your insanity."

The Undertaker chuckled. "And who says you'll have much of a choice, Willy? Keep going the way you do and you'll wind up like poor ol' me. Mark my words."

"I do." Ronald said firmly, moving between the two older men. "I say he has a choice. He's not alone dealing with these things—he has me."

William looked at Ronald with a slight flush to his cheeks, finding his announcement both pleasing and embarrassing. He wasn't sure how to react to it, and he struggled inwardly while the Undertaker chuckled with amusement.

"Is that so, Ronnie-boy?" Undertaker's smile was like a death's grin, pale lips pulling taut over perfectly straight, ivory teeth. He nodded at William, his amusement apparently not fading. "Looks as though he's got a support structure I myself lacked. Isn't that lovely? Tell me though; if your senior officer goes off his nut like I did, will you have the stones to bring him in? Could you turn on him...go against him? I'm not sure Willy has what it takes to do the same to me. What about you, Mister Knox?"

"Enough," muttered William. His heart ached even as he listened to the Undertaker's words. "As agreed earlier, there shall be no conflict between us until after we have resolved the more pressing issue of this creature you have created. I know agent Knox's value and quite frankly sir, it is greater than your own."

He was surprised by his own words, and William's eyes widened briefly as the Undertaker's albino lips formed into an "O" of amazement. Will cleared his throat and looked away hastily. "Knox has proven his value in the field, which is more than I can currently say for yourself, sir."

Ronald's eyes as he turned to look back at William were the size of sand dollars, behind his thick black frames.

Did William just really say that? That _he_ had proven to be of more value on the field than _the legendary Reaper Death_?" Surely he'd misheard—!

But no. William stuck to his declaration, and the boy's heart soared. He felt as if his heart was so light his feet would lift off the ground at any moment. He had to school himself. Now was not the time to start acting like a giddy school girl. He needed to focus on something else. Undertaker had asked him something, right?

Clearing his throat, he turned back to the Undertaker, "You are a wanted man because of your experiments with making things like your dolls. Even if this war is too much for Will, he wouldn't do that because—" he paused. Would William appreciate the truth of what was happening between them to get out to this man? Really, he had no way of knowing. He hadn't been asked to keep it discreet... just to act professional while on the job.

"Because he'll still have me by his side, even after he retires. I won't let him become a lonely old man who talks to the dead more than the living." He took a deep breath, risking things a little more, and he stepped back and took William's gloved hand in his, "I wouldn't stop loving Will if he needs to retire after this war!"

William stared speechlessly at Ronald for a moment, unsure of how to respond to his passionate utterance. The Undertaker began to chortle with amusement before he could even formulate a response though, and Will narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance as his former mentor started to speak up.

"Oh my goodness, I think Willy has more than just a friend in his youthful li'l companion!"

"There is no question about it." Ronald confirmed it, "And he may be upset at me for saying so, but I think you need to know that he's not alone at all—no matter how this war ends!"

Undertaker's smile took to his ears. "Yeah? Well, that's a good thing, I say. Mayhap with such a loyal pup at his side he'll stave off the madness where I couldn't." He sobered and looked down at the sodden earth, heaving a small sigh. "Solitude doesn't help, that's for certain."

William swallowed, feeling a tide of emotion rising to the surface again, threatening to drown him. "You didn't have to be alone either, sir. You could have come to me. I would have been at your side through it all, if you'd have just allowed it."

The Undertaker looked up again, tilting his head in that wolfishly curious way of his. The smile returned to his lips, though it was faintly nostalgic and it didn't reach his eyes. He reached out and he patted William on the head as if he were a small boy needing comfort. "Ah, but I didn't want to put you through that, Will. I saw where I was heading, my lad, and you had better things in your future than taking care of a drooling madman."

That nearly broke William. Having learned to resist sentiment and affectionate contact through most of his life, he suffered the urge to throw his arms around his old mentor and give him the hug that he'd never dared give before. He shoved the ridiculous urge aside—as he tended to do with every affectionate impulse—and he stiffened as he mentally locked it up.

"If you say so. I shan't be following you into your madness, however. Perhaps for you it was easier to run away than to face it with someone that would have been by your side no matter what, but that is not the case with me."

"My, aren't you uppity." Undertaker clucked his tongue, and there was a bitterness behind his smirk. "But I s'pose I can't fault you for lashing out like this. I hope for your sake that your friend here with his funny two-toned hair can give you what you need, William. You're far too stiff to bend with it like I do, and you'll shatter if you try."

"My hair is not 'funny'." Ronald muttered, running a hand through it. "It's sexy."

William very nearly smirked. "I hardly think that you're the one to be giving out fashion advice, Undertaker. This has been the first time I have seen you in anything except for your usual drab robes since you defected from Dispatch."

The Undertaker waved a negligent hand. "Fine, fine. Pick on an old bloke's choice of clothes. We can argue the finer points of hair and fashion some other time."

"Old man's just jealous that he can't be as stylish as the Knoxie." Ronald smirked, pointing his thumb at his chest. He liked this more playful topic over the idea of William shattering into madness.

"Well, regardless of fashion choices, we need to know what our quarry has been up to," William reminded. "I presume you've been keeping up with that in our absence, sir?"

"Much as I'm able to," agreed the Undertaker. "Last meal he had was last night. The victim was a young lady that succumbed to a lung infection. Too bad I didn't arrive on time t' stop him and catch him, but without access to the Death Lists, it's a might tough for me to know who's on their way out for sure and predict where he'll go next. I've got a bit of foresight but it's not pinpoint accurate, you understand."

Ronald nodded, "And the lists are always changing and updating. It'd be hard to forward you copies on the phone seeing as names are always being added up to seconds before. But... we could try, maybe?" he looked at William. He was just an officer, after all. He had no right to offer such a deal with a retired reaper. Such decisions would be better made by a supervisor or higher ranking reaper.

"I think given the circumstances, that may be our best option," agreed William. "It won't be a perfect system, but it may be useful in keeping us a step ahead. Undertaker, would you agree with this?"

"Hmm, might work." The ancient nodded his silver head, his concealed gaze flicking to Ronald. "I can see why you've partnered up with him. Chap gets some good ideas."

"Yes, he does." Will's gaze flicked to Ronald, and he thought of a few certain ideas in particular that were better left unsaid in mixed company. He flushed a little and he made himself stop staring at him. "Well then, I suppose there isn't much left to be said, this evening. I suggest we all retire and get rested up to resume the hunt tomorrow. I don't imagine a lich requires much rest?"

Undertaker shrugged. "Despite the phrase 'sleep like the dead', the dead don't do much sleeping at all. That's part of what keeps the bloke three steps ahead of us. Might be a good idea t' sleep in shifts, once we're on the move again. If we can keep moving once we pick up his trail again, we'll have a better chance of catching him."

"But Will and I still have collections. We can't be all tired and crap while doing our job. It's dangerous enough without being super tired." Ron pointed out. "And I'm not just saying that because I love to sleep in!"

"And that's why I suggested sleeping in shifts," reminded the Undertaker with a cluck of his tongue. "Goodness, sometimes I don't think you young folk listen at all. If we get some sort of vehicle to travel in, we can take turns sleeping while someone else drives. Of course we'll likely have to steal it, but it's a far cry better than going about on foot or using up your energy on portal jumping. I'd say we could take a train but those things only go where the tracks take 'em. A motor car would be ideal."

"Do you even know how to drive?" questioned William dubiously. Given that the man was so out of touch with reaper technology, it was doubtful he was any more familiar with mortal technology aside from medicine.

The mortician smiled. "What's there to know? You just push some pedals and steer."

"Heavens," sighed William, rolling his eyes skyward. "You'll wreck us before you even make it onto the road. I suppose Ronald and I could tutor you until you understand the mechanics well enough to be trusted to drive without supervision."

"I was! It still means being up when I want to be sleeping." Ronald huffed, crossing his arms as the subject advanced from sleeping to driving.

"Don't be a brat," scolded Undertaker. "My sleep schedule's been buggered up since all this began but you don't see me whining."

William sighed. "We will work out a schedule that will hopefully allow each of us to get enough rest. There is no point in arguing about it. The sooner we capture this lich and bring him to justice, the sooner we can all return to our usual routines."

"Unless you dob me in," countered Undertaker.

William compressed his lips with annoyance. "I have already given you my word that once we've succeeded in our goal; I will turn my back to you and allow you to leave without a fight. Whether I'm ordered to go after you again in the future is another matter, but I shall keep my word to you on this matter, Undertaker. Now I think we should be getting back to have dinner and rest. Ronald and I will meet up with you in the morning and we will decide how to proceed from there."

"Suit yourself. Sleep tight, then." Undertaker twiddled his fingers at them as Will and Ron turned to go.

"I'm going to miss sleep..." Ronald muttered as he followed William out of the cemetery. "Dream parties, I will miss..."

"I really don't think that parties are what you should be worrying about," William reasoned. "There will be plenty of time for you to party once we've finished this assignment and returned home to London. I shall even accompany you to some of them, if you like."

It was a subtle reminder that the return of party time wasn't the only thing Ronald could look forward to. While William himself wasn't much for parties, he did look forward to taking the younger reaper out on the town and treating him to dinner, and perhaps some ballroom dancing. He couldn't imagine himself for one second waving his arms around and gyrating to modern dance music the way those club-hopping reapers did, but he was quite good at the classical dances. Club dancing reminded him of someone going into seizures.

_"William."_

The supervisor stopped in his tracks as he heard the whisper, uttered by a voice he did not recognize. "Ronald, did you hear that?" It had sounded like it was right in his ear, but there was nobody else nearby.

"Hear what?" Ron asked, continuing to walk, "And I was talking about parties in my dreams. Only kind I can really have fun with currently."

William forgot all about Ronald's complaints, too distracted by the sound of someone whispering into his ear. "I thought that I heard...but never mind. I must have been mistaken."

He recalled the Undertaker warning him not to answer "the voices" if he heard them, and a shiver passed through him. Was he going mad now, after all? Was he hearing the voices of the dead, or was his mind simply beginning to fracture from too much stress? He resumed walking, eyes narrowed on every shadow and shoulders tense. He braced himself as they left the graveyard and he began to form a portal back to their realm.

_"Spears..."_

Clenching his jaw, William did his best to ignore it. His technique was sloppy though, and the distraction cost him. When he and Ronald stepped through the portal he'd made, they ended up clear on the other side of town, far from the location of the hotel.

"Oh hells," muttered William, embarrassed.

"...Distracted much?" Ron observed, looking around, "Or were you aiming for a romantic moonlit stroll through the streets?"

The blond walked over to Will and placed his hands on the man's shoulders, "Are you okay? I know the man upset you a little back there...or maybe it was me? I'm sorry if it was."

"It wasn't you," William assured, even as he looked around suspiciously. "I believe something that the Undertaker said to me simply troubled me more than I realized. I'm only imagining things."

A part of him wanted to confide more in Ronald, to tell him that he'd heard a voice whisper his name not once, but twice since leaving the cemetery. Perhaps working with his former mentor was going to be more trying than he suspected. He didn't want to alarm Ronald though; especially since he hadn't heard that whisper since stepping through the portal to the other side. He was just spooked, he supposed. He'd let the Undertaker's insane talk get to him.

"Well, we aren't going to get to our lodgings more quickly by standing here speculating on the words of a lunatic," he decided aloud, trying to put the incident behind him. "You should probably create the portal to take us to the hotel, Ronald. I suspect my mind is too tired and distracted for accuracy, at the moment."

"Sure." Ronald summoned his scythe to his hand, and then paused, glancing back at William before turning and planting a short but heated kiss to his lips, "I meant what I said back there; you know that, don't you? That I'm here for you no matter what?"

William nodded. "I know."

And he _did_. Of all the reapers he worked with, he knew that Ronald was the one he could rely on most. Perhaps it hadn't always been that way and perhaps Knox wasn't always the most punctual of reapers—even lazy at times, but he had proven that when it really mattered, he could be counted on and trusted. Pity William was so terrible with words so that he could say so to him, but he believed his actions spoke for him better than words could. He watched as the younger man opened the portal, and they stepped through together and arrived precisely where he'd meant to bring them with his own portal.

"Thank you, Ronald," he said softly, still humiliated over his blunder. It was not like him to make mistakes like that, but he'd been doing many things of late that were not like him. His stomach growled and he checked his watch. "I'd say room service would be an excellent idea before bed."

They'd eaten dinner before venturing back into the mortal realm to locate the Undertaker again, but that had been hours ago. Even a small appetizer to snack on before bed would be helpful.

"Okay, but only if you agree to share a bed with me tonight!" Ronald tried, though he was also feeling the hunger. He was still young and had a huge appetite, after all. But getting his boyfriend to share a bed sounded even better to him.

William almost smiled. "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

Though he did not hear any further voices after crossing over to their realm, William's sleep was troubled that night. He dreamt of the day when Legendary Death returned to London Dispatch headquarters from the war, wrapped in bloodied bandages and barely able to speak from the damage done to his throat. He'd collapsed on the steps of the building and personnel went frantic. After hearing that his mentor had returned grievously injured, William raced to headquarters and he arrived just in time to see the medics carrying Death out on a gurney to load him into the emergency carriage for transport to the hospital.

He'd followed behind and acquired what information he could on his mentor's condition. They said he might lose his eye and his voice—if he even survived. They would not allow anyone save top ranking officers of Dispatch to visit him, and William waited for days to finally be given clearance for a visit.

What he found when he arrived at Death's hospital room would be branded into his memory forever. His mentor was awake and the medics had surgically stitched up his terrible injuries, but he was ranting and raving like a lunatic. Hospital personnel was trying to restrain him to the bed, and Death alternated between cursing them and cackling madly. He accused them of trying to 'break' him and he didn't seem to realize who they really were at all. William was quickly pushed aside by more medical staff and told that he had to leave, and the last thing he saw was the reaper he so admired howling at the top of his lungs.

_"If you hear the voices, don't answer."_

William came awake with a cry, his body glistening with sweat and his hair damp with it.

Ronald, having been sharing the bed with William, had been jostled awake by William's thrashing and constant readjusting. For once, he wasn't trying to cling to sleep and when William cried out and bolted upright, the blond slowly pushed himself up as well. He slipped his arms around William's middle and kissed his shoulder.

"William?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, similar to how his mother used to speak to him when he had nightmares of monsters under his bed as a child.

William drew a shuddering gasp, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Ronald. It was Ronald embracing him. He impulsively laid his hands over the blond's and shut his eyes. "It was a nightmare," he said unnecessarily. "I was dreaming of when the Undertaker returned from the war, a shredded, insane mess. He was nothing like the reaper I'd come to know. He was like a wounded, wild animal. All sense of reason was gone from him, and it was shortly after his physical recovery from his injuries that he vanished."

He wasn't even quite sure what he was saying. He opened his eyes again and he rubbed his forehead. "Voices," he murmured. "Will I fall as well?"

Ronald frowned further and shifted closer to embrace him from behind, tighter. "I can't promise that you won't," he whispered, "But I can promise I'm here for you. I'll be your life line, Will." he paused and nuzzled the man's ear, "It's okay to listen to my voice," he said, remembering the warning that Undertaker had given William. "If you start hearing voices like he suggested, only listen to mine. I'll lead you back safe."

William turned his head to look at him, though he couldn't make out his features very well in the dark—much less without his glasses. His presence was enough though, and a tremble went through him. "And if I should turn on you, the way the Undertaker turned on Dispatch?"

"Would you?" he asked, "Would you push me away from you? You have feelings for me, Will, we both know it. We got together like this because the feeling is natural. I give you something he never thought he had. He was alone..."

The blond shifted around so that he could look William in the eye as best he could in the dark and without glasses. He cupped the man's face and leaned forward to hiss him, "I'm in love with you, William. And I won't let you needlessly be alone to fall into madness."

Nobody had ever offered such support and...kindness...to him before. Will couldn't decide quite how to respond to it. His heart was still hammering in his chest, and he leaned over to reach for his glasses on the nightstand so that he could see more clearly. He twisted in the bed once he had the spectacles on and he stared at Ronald, now able to see more of his features in the light of the moon coming through the window. He took a deep breath, and he spoke in as gentle a voice as one such as himself could muster.

"I would not turn against you of my own free will, Ronald. Nor would I even think of turning on Dispatch, but lately I fear I'm feeling less in control of myself than I would like to believe. I fear if it could happen to the Undertaker, it may happen to me as well. Should that happen, I would ask you not to hesitate to do what you must. Harming you would...I could not..."

He shook his head and he sighed at his own inability to express himself. Why could he not simply tell this persistent loyal reaper the truth of his feelings, as Ronald had done with him? "I would rather die than bring any harm to you," he finally admitted, lowering his gaze, "and you are the first to ever offer me the depth of devotion you've shown. I shall try to be worthy of it."

William was a lot sweeter and... dare he say it, cuter than people gave the man credit for. Of course, most didn't even care to see past the cold, professional front the man showed in the office. As far as Ronald knew, only Grell had come close to that before him...well, maybe Undertaker as well, but he hadn't been around back then to see what the man was like in his younger years. And Grell's fascination was much shallower. The redhead fancied William, but wasn't devoted to those feelings. He was also selfish about it, which only drove William away from the idea of anything but professional relations with him.

Ronald looked up to Grell, he really did. But he wasn't blind to the man's faults.

"I know words from your heart aren't your strong suit," he whispered, offering a smile, "But you do speak to me in other ways you may not even realize you've started doing." He took Will's hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, "Just let me stay by your side through this."

Will kept staring at him, fighting with himself. He wanted to open up to Ronald—death knew, he'd never done so with anyone else save his mother as a child. He simply didn't know how. He took another slow, shuddering breath and he simply drew the younger reaper close and urged him to lie down with him. He removed his glasses and replaced them on the nightstand, and then he ran his hands up and down Ronald's back, trying to convey with actions what he could not seem to do with words. As he did this, he buried his face against the crook of Ron's neck and breathed in his sent, taking what comfort he could from the contact.

"I'm here for you, Will...always." Ronald whispered, sliding his arms around William, rubbing his back.

William nodded, heaving a weary sigh as he gave the other reaper a squeeze. He never would have imagined him having this sort of closeness with _anyone_ —let alone the office flirt. But just as Ronald had learned more about who he was beneath his chilly exterior, William had learned that agent Knox was a much deeper individual than anyone could guess. He didn't know if the future would bring them closer together or tear them apart, but for now, he intended to take what he could get.

* * *

-To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

After that, Ronald found it difficult to get back to sleep. He was worried about William, and he was sure more was going on in William's head than the man was yet able to express. He laid next to William, watching him sleep and soothingly running his fingers through his hair.

But after the sun had begun to shed rays of light through the window, Ronald found himself too restless. Not wanting to disturb William, he carefully slipped out of William's arms—which had never left him since the man fell asleep—and he pulled on a pair of pants over his boxers. He then grabbed his mobile phone and stepped out into the hall, scrolling through contact numbers until he got to the name of his best friend. London was an hour ahead of him, and given that Eric was covering William's position in the office there was a good chance that the man was already up...though likely unhappy about it. But Ron felt the need to talk to him. They hadn't spoken in a long time and if anything, it would be good to let the man know that he was getting serious with someone and their friends with drunken benefits thing would have to be ended when he got back to London.

Pressing the call button, Ronald held the phone up to his ear and listened to it ring.

Just when he was sure it'd go to voicemail, he heard a click and a voice answer his call.

"Hello?"

"Eric! Styx, I hope I didn't wake you...unless you were sleeping on the job, then I guess I-wait...Alan?" The familiar voice finally registered with Ronald and he blinked dumbly at the wall across from him. "Did I...call the wrong number?"

"Not...exactly, Ronald..." Alan's reply came, "This is Eric's phone."

"Then why are you answering it this early in the morn—oh—oh sweet scythe!" Ronald's eyes widened as a thought hit him. "Dude, did he finally stop torturing himself and ask you out?! Did I interrupt anything naughty?"

Ronald could practically hear the blush Alan was suffering when the brunet replied; "No...well, kind of...he kissed me by accident, but...then I asked him—he's in the shower right now and I thought this call may have been important," Alan babbled.

"Well, hot damn." The blond grinned, "Good for the both of ya! Anyway, I just wanted to talk to him, but if he's busy, I guess I can go..."

"Actually, I think he just got out of the shower. Hold on." Alan's voice grew muffled for a moment, "Eric, it's Ronald. Says he would like to talk to you about something."

Eric made sure the towel was securely draped around his waist before approaching the brunet and giving him one of his infamous grin-and-wink combinations. "Thanks. Shower's all yers if ye'd like tae catch one before work. I go' out a fresh towel fer ya."

Eric would have _loved_ for Alan to join him in that shower, but they weren't quite at that point yet. He grinned at the way his partner blushed at him as he brought the phone to his ear. He'd blushed last night after their date when...

"So, I'm gone for a few months and you finally start banging Humphries, huh?" Ronald interrupted his thoughts, a smirk in his voice, "About damn _time_! You have been torturing yourself with pining for him to notice you like that for years! So how'd it happen? He said you accidentally kissed him?"

Eric suffered an uncommon moment of embarrassment, and he cast a quick look over his shoulder to be sure his partner was in the bathroom as he flushed. "Och! Who said I was 'banging' him, Ronnie? Aye, I've had mah eye on 'im fer a while but...it's _Alan_. I...wull, hope ya don't take offence, but it's no' like tha times wi' us. Yer mah friend. Al's mah...er..."

He got flustered trying to explain it. Eric Slingby was not a monogamous sort by nature, after all...but if anyone could understand, it had to be Ronald. "He's no' just a friend wi' benefits or a shag," he finally said, "an' tha kiss just sort o' happened. Might have been tha stress o' taking o'er fer Will, but one minute we were talkin' business an' tha next I jus'...kissed him. Wasnae even conscious on mah part. It jus' happened an' we both liked it, so we've gone a bit further tae see how it goes. We...er...fell asleep cuddling last night...an' I swear tae gods if yeh make _one_ joke about tha'..."

He let the sentence hang, though he'd never hit Ronald unless he had no choice. They were always friendly competitors in games of romance and occasionally partook with each other, so he immediately braced for the incoming teasing.

Ronald scoffed with a smirk. "I always knew you had more than just a crush on him," he laughed, "Hell, I faintly remember you talking about him during one of our nights together. And I..." Ron trailed off, a blush crossing his cheeks as he thought about William, "I understand wanting to wait for the perfect moment for the whole sex thing with him..." He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "To tell ya the truth, I'm kinda in a similar situation over here. Never thought a war in Germany would be a place for Romance, but...here I am..."

Eric's brows shot up. "Did ya find yerself some foreigner or...wait. Ronnie, yer no' talking 'bout Spears, are ya?"

The more he thought of it, the more he recalled moments where Ronald's gaze had lingered on their boss. At company parties, in the office, in the field...at first Eric thought maybe Ron was just curious as to what the man might be like in bed, with such a cold exterior. Eric himself wondered that sometimes too, but not out of any desire to have relations with him.

"I still don't quite know what happened." Ronald shrugged, "Things happened and then the next thing I knew..." he paused, blushing further, "But you can't tell anyone! I'm only telling you because you're my best friend. I'm not sure if Will would want it getting all over the office back home...at least this soon. Plus we have bigger things to worry about over here."

Again he paused, closing his eyes and frowning with a sigh, "I don't know what to do, Eric...I know what I want to do, but I don't know how to do it..." He said, lowering his voice and glancing back at the door to their shared hotel room.

"I won't tell a soul," promised the Scotsman upon detecting the angst in his voice. "I jus' dinnae realize ya felt tha' way about him, but it makes sense that ye'd bond after tha things ye've seen an' been through together. So wha's tha trouble, Ronnie? Ya don't know wha' tae do about wha'...yer feelings?"

Eric knew from his own experience how scary it was for someone used to playing the field to start having real, genuine feelings for someone, and he sympathized with his friend.

"I didn't exactly flaunt my feelings." Ronald smirked, "I've had feelings for him for a long time, now...but no, it's not really my feelings that are the problem—I kind of wish that it were. It'd be easier..." He sighed and started to pace the hall.

"I'm worried about him," he finally admitted. "I couldn't really sleep last night, so you know it's bad. This war is really getting to him. It was before in the beginning, but it seems to just get worse and I think it's affecting him more than he's able to share with me. I want to help him but all I can think of to do is reassure him that I'm here for him."

Eric frowned. This was more serious than he thought. He was prepared to tease Ronald a bit and tell him they were both in the same boat, but their situation wasn't as similar as he'd suspected. In fact, it sounded a lot worse—and not just for Will and Ronnie. If Spears cracked, their division might very well fall apart. Eric and Alan were doing a passable job of holding it together, but he honestly didn't know how William managed to do so much around here by himself with such a level of cool control. Eric and his partner were barely managing it, and the level of stress made him decide the position wasn't worth the pay upgrade. The extra money they were getting while taking on this task was nice, but there was _no way_ he'd want to do this permanently. William T. Spears had it down to a science, while he and Alan were amateurs.

"Tha man's already uptight," reasoned the Scotsman. "Tha' cannae be helping him cope wi' tha stress. I still dun' understand why he didnae jus' send someone else."

Well, that wasn't completely true. Finding out that William was half German shed a little light on why he was so personally invested in it. There was so much about the man that nobody knew, and Eric wondered how many of his secrets Ronnie had uncovered in their time together.

"Look Ronnie, jus' hang in there. Spears is one o' tha most fortified reapers I know, an' if you can get through this, so can he. Jus' keep doing wha' yer doing an' watch after each other. Maybe try ta get him tae take a little time out tae relax, even. I know tha's easier said than done with him, but ya seem tae have a way wi' him tha' none of us do."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Ronald sighed, "He had some sort of nasty nightmare last night... I hate that I can't help more. I really love him, you know? Hate seeing him suffer..."

Eric glanced towards the bathroom, totally able to relate to that sentiment. "I know, Ronnie. There's only so much y' can do though. I know tha's no comfort, but jus' try tae think of it this way: if it weren't fer ya being there, he'd probably be a lo' worse off than he is now. Have ya thought o' suggesting some counseling fer him? Maybe he could take an hour ou' of every second day tae talk wi' a professional, if it's getting tae him bad enough t' affect his judgment. He'd ne'er listen t' any of us, but he might listen tae you."

"I don't know..." Ron sighed, "there only seems to be two people he really opens up to, and being one of them, I can say it's still difficult for him. I mean, I can think about the idea...but I'm not too sure it'd help. But, then again, he knows it's happening and he's scared of what it could do to us if it gets too bad...I think."

Feeling helpless to offer anything better to his young friend, Eric nodded. It was probably a stupid idea, anyhow. William T. Spears, admitting he needed professional psychological help? The man would probably sooner throw himself off a cliff. He had a feeling Ronald wasn't expecting him to come out with some breakthrough idea, though. He just needed some moral support from his best mate. "Right, it was jus' a thought. Ya know Ronnie, if it gets too bad—an' I'm no' saying it will because I still cannae imagine Will completely losin' control o' himself—there's always Dispatch intervention as an option. I know it's an ugly thought, but we've go' tae put his safety and yers first. He's a logical man at heart an' I know when he comes back tae his senses, he wouldnae hold it against us...or you. Jus' keep tha' thought in mind if it looks tae be getting too ou' of control. Promise me tha', kid."

"I'd hate to do that...but I guess you're right." Ronald nodded. Ha paused and decided to change the subject up again, end the call on a lighter note,. "But yeah, I guess I don't have to tell you the benefits part of our friendship is over, right?"

Eric chuckled. "Actually, I was jus' thinking o' trying tae get in touch wi' yeh tae say tha same thing yesterday. I go' sae distracted wi' work I forgot, but I figured y' had bigger things tae worry about right now an' it could wait. Yer still mah best mate, Ronnie."

"Well, now we know we're both on the same page. I shoulda told you sooner but when I'm not working, I'm sleeping, and when I'm not sleeping, I'm working...with sometimes a few breaks due to injury or just wanting to have a snog session while waiting for the bombs to stop falling."

Eric laughed softly at that. "Aye, we're of a mind on tha'. I'm relating there. It's funny we both hooked up wi' tha only reapers tha' had a chance o' settling us down, and 'round tha same time, too. Must be fate."

He sobered a bit as he heard the water turn off in the shower. He hadn't confessed to Alan yet that Ronald was one of his previous "hook-ups" and he thought maybe it was time for him to bring that into light, just to clear the air. He was also still worried about his young friend, though. "Ronnie, keep me updated whene'er yah can. Boss puts out reports regularly, but it's all straight-laced business wi' him. Yer right there in tha thick of it wi' him and ya know wha's happening in tha background. If ya need me I'm here, a'right?"

"Yeah..." Ron sighed, "I know." Really, Eric was one of the few people he fully trusted with, well, everything. His secrets, his life... Eric, in a strange sort of way, was like family to him. An older brother, or maybe a father when it came to needing advice. (Their whole "benefits" relations aside.) Eric was a true friend and whenever he needed help, Ron knew he'd be there.

"I don't know when I'll be able to call again, but you can trust I will when I find time ta. Thanks for letting me take you away from your boyfriend. You take good care of him, yeah?" he smirked and said his goodbyes before turning and heading back into his hotel room where he shed his pants and slipped back into bed with his own boyfriend, finally able to rest his mind enough to get a little more sleep before having to get back to work.

Talking to Eric really did help a lot.

* * *

The bathroom door opened and Alan walked out, wearing Eric's bathrobe he forgot he had. It was too big for him, but it was warm and soft. "What did Ronald want?" he asked, wondering if it was work-related.

Eric's gaze swept over him and he smiled. "I could get used tae th' sight of yeh in mah robe." He so erred a bit and reminded himself that this wasn't the time for flirting. Not only was the situation with Spears getting serious, but he had a confession to make that might upset his love interest. He went to the bed, sat down and patted the spot next to him invitingly.

"Have a seat wi' me fer a minute? Ther's a few things we need tae talk about before we get ready fer work."

"I was...going to make us breakfast before we left." Alan admitted, his cheeks pink, "But if something has come up, maybe it'd be best to get something on the way?" he walked over and sat down next to Eric, looking up at him.

"Aye, there's a pancake house a block away," agreed the Scot. "We can call ahead an' get some takeout breakfast from there."

He took a deep breath and he blew it out in a sigh, hoping the second part of his news would be received well. First there was the situation with Spears to address, though. "Ronnie said tha boss isnae doin' so good. The war's really taking a toll on him, an' Ron's getting worried he might snap. If tha' happens, tha board'll have tae pull him ou' of tha investigation an' send a replacement. They might even have tae commit him, an' if tha' happens I dunno if this department will hold together."

"That bad?" Alan frowned. Frankly, he was surprised William hadn't snapped long ago just by being a supervisor. The job was stressful and he and Eric were doing okay at it, but they were working together and William was just one man. How many nights had William never made it home for the night? How many times had he canceled his personal days just to get work done when something came up? When even had been the last time he'd taken a week's vacation?

And yes, losing William would be horrible for the office. They didn't have anyone qualified to replace him. Not just any reaper could handle the higher-up positions, and supervisor was only the start of that. There had been a time when Supervisor had been in Alan's own sights career-wise. But those had been dashed when he contracted Thorns. The job would literally kill him if he took it. The stress would have induced more and more attacks.

His life wasn't much. Maybe he would have taken the job if William did crack... but not now. Not that he had Eric. They were just starting out, but killing himself with work was not how he wanted to end things with Eric. Though, his experience wasn't quite high enough for the promotion, even if he would take the job.

Alan shook the thoughts from his head. None of it mattered. What mattered was that William needed help, somehow.

"What can be done?" he asked, "Is Ronald able to help him?"

"He's doing tha best he can," answered Eric. "Problem is Will's so tenacious, an' he's no' likely tae admit he's go' a problem 'till it's too late. He may need an intervention if it gets too bad; but I've go' faith tha boss has tha strength tae hold on."

Eric sighed an' looked down, taking Alan's hand in his. "There's somethin' else I should tell ya. It's about me an' Ronald."

Alan raised an eyebrow, not knowing what to expect. He already knew they were best friends, after all. "What? Are you worried about him?" he asked. Eric was the type of man to take rash actions without thinking, at times. Maybe he was wanting to run to Germany to help the kid?

"Aye, but tha' cannae be helped right now. This is about our personal relationship an' ya might no' like hearing it...but I've got tae be honest. Alan, Ron an' I aren't tha regular kind o' friends. We've had this...arrangement fer about a year. Ever hear of 'friends wi' benefits?"

Alan blinked at Eric, and then, unable to hold it back, he laughed. "Do you not think I don't know you were having sex with people before we started dating?"

His laugh wasn't cruel; it was more playful and song-like.

"Eric, if you are worried I'd get jealous over something that you used to do, you can relax. I trust you not to cheat on me at all. And I'm sure Ronald understands now that he knows about us. He's not the type of boy who'll sleep with a guy who is in a relationship with someone else."

Eric sighed in relief and he smiled. "No, he's no'. Turns out he was calling tae let me know tha' part of our relationship is over, 'cause _he's_ picked up a sweetheart too an' he's like me in tha'. Once we're with someone neither of us fool around. I was jus' worried ye'd be upset 'cause it was Ronnie. This won't make anything awkward between tha two of ya, will it?"

"I can't promise that it won't be a little awkward." Alan sobered, "But I doubt it'd ruin my friendship with him. You two are both adults and you made a choice to include sex in your friendship while you were both single. It's awkward to know he's had you before, but..." Alan moved onto his knees and leaned in to press his lips to Eric's, "I know that now, I'm the one you are kissing and holding close."

Eric grinned into the kiss, his arms stealing around the smaller reaper's waist. "Tha's right...an' this is jus' where I want tae be."

He reciprocated the kiss and deepened it, and he was suddenly very aware that the towel around his waist was the only thing he had covering him. It began to tent as he caressed Alan's tongue with his own and he groaned a bit. He wasn't used to going for this long without sex, but his partner was definitely worth it. Humphries was all he'd wanted for some time now but he never thought he would go for a rogue like him.

"Alan," he murmured between kisses, "There's no' much separating us right now an' we'd better stop, before I lose mah senses."

Alan's cheeks flushed as he pulled back and looked down, spotting what he'd caused. "O-oh... yes..." he stood up and tightened the robe around himself. As attracted to Eric as he was, he wasn't ready to go all the way, and it was cruel to push Eric's buttons. The man did know what they were missing, and Alan didn't.

"Sorry... I'll...go get dressed in the bathroom." he said, looking for where he'd put his suit.

"O'er on tha chair," supplied Eric with a rueful little smirk. He waited for his companion to retrieve the outfit and go into the bathroom, before selecting a fresh uniform for himself for the day. Eric sighed as he dropped the towel to the floor and pulled on some briefs, stuffing his goods into them as best he could. It was going to be a challenge to keep his hands off his partner, but the last thing he wanted to do was push him to do anything he wasn't ready for.

* * *

With their alarm came Ronald's realization that now that he'd been able to sleep, he had a stronger urge to stay asleep. Hugging William tight and hiding his face in the man's ribs, He fought the sound going off and trying to wake him up.

"Ugh," blurted William, no more eager to answer the call of duty than his companion. He blindly reached out to hit the snooze button—something ordinarily unheard of for him. The night before had been a rough one, however. Once the infernal noise died, he rolled back over to face his snuggling companion and he put his arms around him, closing his eyes.

"Later," he murmured. "Just a while longer."

He drifted off to sleep again, and the next time the alarm went off, he shut it down completely. They would wake when they were ready to wake. He was tired...so very tired.

"Kill it...just kill it..." Ronald muttered after William turned it off, "Evil...demon noise..."

But silence was not to be as they soon heard their mobile phones go off with their assignments for the day.

"Go away," muttered William, tossing his phone across the room. He was in no mood for this never-ending struggle. He jerked awake when someone rudely poked him in the knee, and he sat up with a start.

"Who on earth do you think—oh...hello, sir."

Undertaker stood lurking over their bed with a wry grin. "My goodness, you boys can sleep."

"...could sleep better without all this noi-hahh!" It registered in Ronald's mind who spoke and he sat up, making sure that the blankets were covering his boxer-clad lower half, "How the bloody hell did you get in here?!"

The mortician, still grinning, pointed a black-nailed finger in the general direction of the window. "You left it unlocked, chap. Wasn't too difficult."

William was still muzzy-headed with sleep and he rubbed his eyes before collecting his glasses and putting them on. "You must forgive our lack of hospitality," he yawned. "We were not expecting to wake up finding you perched at the foot of our bed, Undertaker."

He realized something then that had his brows furrowing with puzzlement. "You are in the reaper realm, sir."

Undertaker shrugged. "Yes, I s'pose I am. It's a lot quieter here, too." He frowned and tilted his head in a puzzled manner. "How odd. If I'd known they'd quiet down on this side, I might have spent more time here. Might not have even gotten into the funeral business at all."

Having no idea what he was babbling about, William brushed it off. "If you say so, sir. I recall you saying you wouldn't set so much as a toe in this realm again, once you left Dispatch."

"Ah, but there are more important things to worry about then my personal misgivings," pointed out the elder, "such as our li'l problem with the soul eater at large. Now out of bed with the both of you; he's on the move and we can't afford to dawdle."

"Gahhh!" Ronald fell back against the pillows, "He just had to pick this morning of all mornings," he moaned. Begrudgingly, he started to roll over and swing his legs off the side of the bed, but then he took pause. While he normally wasn't shy about nudity, he was involved with William, and maybe William wasn't comfortable with Ronald showing off his body to other people... Boxers or no, he still had a case of his usual morning wood and the thin layer of cloth left little to the imagination.

"Uh, as creepy as you are stooped there watching us sleep...could you turn your back until I get to the bathroom?"

"Yes, I would also appreciate some privacy to get dressed," agreed William. "Sir, if you wouldn't mind?"

Undertaker shrugged again. "No skin off my ol' back. I can wait out in the hallway while you get yourselves situated and collect whatever you need to bring. Just thought I'd come and check on you both, since you never showed at the appointed time."

William flushed at that reminder. It was not like him at all to be tardy—particularly when something so important was on the line. "Noted, and my apologies. I shall do my utmost to conduct myself more professionally in this endeavor."

Undertaker hopped down from the foot of the bed and glided out of the room like a ghost, and William shuddered inwardly. He really was not the reaper Will had once known, and it made his heart ache to keep drawing comparisons. Whatever had happened to his mentor during that war, it had changed him forever and it was time for Will to learn to accept that and cope with the fact that his hero may as well be dead and forgotten.

Once alone again, Ronald sighed and looked at William, "Did you sleep better for the second half of the night, at least?" he asked, taking his hand.

"Yes," answered William. "In fact, I slept a bit too well for my liking. I did not wish to awake." He smirked ruefully and some urge to be romantic took hold of him. Without even thinking of it, he brought Ronald's hand to his lips and turned it over, kissing the palm. "It may have had something to do with my bed partner."

Despite himself, Ronald flushed like the girls at the office he used to flirt with. "I'm glad for that, then..." he muttered in a low voice, his eyes hooded as he gazed at William. Suddenly, he didn't have the heart to admit that he'd barely slept. He would just have to be extra careful should anything happen that day.

"Let's make today better than yesterday."

William nodded in agreement, and he gathered his uniform and went into the bathroom to change. "Yes, let's."

Oblivious to his companion's troubled sleep, he pulled on his clothing with practiced care, smoothing out any wrinkles he found whether they were real or imaginary. He smirked a bit as he dressed, taking care to be sure the bars and medals were all on straight. Ronald had driven away his nightmares effortlessly, and he was now beginning to understand what it was like to be in a meaningful relationship. When he was finished, William cracked the door open and he called out to the younger reaper.

"Are you decent, Ronald?"

"From the waist up." Ronald smirked, though he was all dressed and was finishing up with his tie. "It's safe to come out," he said before repressing a yawn and moving to use the bathroom and try and wake up with splashing cold water on his face.

William noticed the tired look on his face and he frowned slightly, finally seeing that all wasn't well with the younger man. "Did you get enough sleep, Ronald?"

Ronald waved it off, "I'll be fine, Will. You know I'm not a morning person. I'd sleep until noon if I could," he fibbed. William had enough to worry about, without feeling possible guilt over Ronald's lack of sleep. It wasn't William's fault, after all. It had been his own.

William still looked faintly doubtful, but he knew from experience that Ronald was indeed a late sleeper. He couldn't count the number of times he'd seen him stumbling into the office half-asleep, and it didn't seem to matter how early or late he'd gone to bed. "Very well. We can stop somewhere for coffee on the way back to the mortal realm. I don't need you nodding off if we happen across that lich and possibly getting yourself injured."

He went to put his underwear and pajama bottoms in his suitcase before sealing it up. "We may as well bring our belongings with us," he mused aloud. "There is no telling how long we could be on the road this time."

"Are you seriously going to lug that all around Mortal Germany?" Ronald asked, raising an eyebrow, "And do I? I mean, I have very little... just my bathroom things, extra boxers, and my normal work suit... but still! How many officers do you see carrying a suitcase and garment bags?"

"Plenty who are traveling," countered William. "If we are going to procure a vehicle, we will have the room to spare for it. I for one have no desire to go without brushing my teeth or changing my underwear for an unknown stretch of days, Ronald. Feel free to grow mold on your teeth and wear the same undergarments until you must peel them off of you, but stay downwind of me, please."

"Or-" Ronald grinned, "I could kiss you until the mold is in your mouth and you can clean it out."

William paused and he stared at him. "Not even you can make that suggestion appealing to me. I do believe you are slipping, Ronald Knox." His mouth twitched involuntarily with amusement, despite his efforts to hold a straight face.

"You say that, but you're amused." Ron smirked, pinching Will's butt as he passed to collect his things.

"Only because I hadn't expected you to take it that far," insisted William. He picked up his suitcase and started for the door. "Just please do me the favor of not making good on that suggestion, Ronald. I honestly don't think I could stomach it, even with you."

"Whatever you say, sexy." Ron winked, following after Will with his few possessions in hand.

Undertaker was waiting for them in the hall as promised, and as soon as they left the hotel and stepped through the portal to the other side the mortician grimaced. "Ah, they're back again. I was getting fond of being alone in my head for a change, too."

William frowned at him and he started to ask what he meant, but then he heard his name whispered and he stiffened. He knew that neither of his companions had spoken to him—which meant that he was hearing voices again…just like his former mentor. Suddenly the Undertaker's words made sense to him.

"You only hear them when you are in the mortal realm?" he asked cautiously.

Undertaker stooped over to pick up a stray rock from the path they were on, and he nodded. "They can't come through to the other side. Pity I hate the reaper domain so much, or I swear I'd consider moving back there." He drew back and threw the rock far to the distance, watching it land several yards away.

William lowered his gaze, absorbing this. Perhaps he wasn't imagining the whispers. What if he was really hearing the voices of the mortal dead, trapped in the afterlife and desperate to find peace?

"How long have you heard them, sir?"

The mortician shrugged and began walking the path. "Since before I came back from the war. I was too muddled to realize the significance of their silence when I crossed back into our realm, 'cause I was mad, then."

William raised a brow and chose not to point out that he was mad now, too. Maybe the Undertaker didn't see it that way.

"Did I miss something?" Ronald asked with a frown, "There's nothing. Not even gunfire or the whistle of bombs here." Which was true. The early morning was as silent as the grave... to those who couldn't hear the voices of the dead, that is. And Ronald didn't know he was the only one able to enjoy the silence.

"That's because we're outside the warzone, presently," explained the mortician—who was the one responsible for creating the portal they'd taken. "Down the road we'll find a quaint li'l village where we can get our motorcar and be on our way. It's already waiting for us."

"And how did you acquire this vehicle?" questioned William with a suspicious look.

Undertaker grinned. "I borrowed it. Last night after our meeting, in fact. There's an unhappy Nazi officer over in the last town we were at, but I'm sure the military will replace his car."

"Oh goodie, we could be caught with a stolen car." Ron signed. "Where are we headed to, anyway?"

"South-ish," answered the mortician with a vague gesture in that direction. "He'll be heading back into the war-zone, where the casualties are juicier."

William grimaced at his choice of words, but he said nothing. To their quarry, the victims of this war were indeed "juicy"… like ripe fruit plucked from the vine. He stepped closer to Ronald on sheer instinct as he heard his name whispered again, and he did his best not to acknowledge it.

Ronald sighed and nodded, "Then let's get going." Maybe he could nap on the car ride if William drove... he wasn't sure about trusting Undertaker to drive, after all, and he wanted to be up and alert when they taught him.

* * *

-To be continued


	14. Chapter 14

"So, let me see," muttered the Undertaker after William explained the gearshift to him. "I pull this lever and press the pedal…"

The vehicle lurched with a grinding sound and William quickly put his hand over the ancient's to stop him from grinding the gears further. "You shifted incorrectly, sir. Try again."

The mortician sighed and almost pouted. "Confounded machinery! Why do they make it so blasted complicated?"

"Mortals haven't figured out how to make it automatic, yet." Ronald shrugged, "It's easy once you learn it." He stretched out in the back seat, lying down. It seemed they would be sitting in one spot for a while.

William sighed and begged the gods for patience. "All right, let us begin again. Think of it as a process, Undertaker…like your experimental procedures. One step at a time."

"Hmm, I could do that," acknowledged the mortician. He poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he examined the controls of the vehicle again. He tried once more—this time shifting into the correct gear but failing to pop the clutch at the right time. "Bloody hell!"

"Easy," soothed William. He decided to try a different approach, treating it more like dance steps. "Look at me and memorize my motions. One, two, three….one, two, three." He went through the motion of pressing the pedal, shifting the gear and pressing the gas.

"And of course, always keep your hand on the steering wheel and pay attention to where you're going," he finished after going through the motions a few times.

"Spears…"

William suddenly scowled. "Do shut up."

Undertaker blinked at him. "I didn't say a thing, lad. I was clinging to every word you said like a tick sucking on—"

"I was speaking of my stomach," interrupted William hastily. "We had no chance to eat breakfast and it was growling and distracting me."

The Undertaker regarded him with interest. He'd changed into a Nazi uniform like Will and Ron so as to travel easier, and his hair was tucked up underneath the cap. The sun flashed on the emblem on his hat and his vivid eyes seemed to see right through William.

"I've never known you to be easily distracted by a growling tummy, Willy. I used to have to chide you to eat, in fact. You'd have your nose so buried in the books you'd have starved if others hadn't reminded you to have a meal."

"Things can change," countered William. "My stomach can wait. Let us focus on the more immediate concern, shall we?"

Undertaker shrugged. "Suit yourself."

After a few more tries, he managed to get the car moving forward with only a slight hitch. William sighed in relief and leaned back in his seat, unwilling to close his eyes just yet as the Undertaker began to drive out of the town. He turned in his seat to check on Ronald, and he smirked a little to find him dead to the world. Deciding to let him rest while the opportunity was there, he kept an eye on the Undertaker's driving and advised him when necessary. Mad or not, his former mentor was a genius and once he got the hang of the controls William felt confident enough to close his eyes for a while.

"Wake me in an hour, please. I shall take over after a nap."

Ronald was jerked awake by a particularly rough bump in the road, which ejected him from the back bench seat of the car and deposited him onto the floor. With a groan, he sat up and rubbed his eyes as he looked up out of the window at the passing buildings.

"They should really fix that..." he yawned and pulled himself up onto the seat he'd been previously evacuated from, and becoming aware of his full bladder. He leaned forward, "Hey, I need ta piss," he said, expecting that William was awake, but it was only Undertaker who seemed to hear him.

The mortician glanced over his shoulder at the young man, and he looked around at their surroundings. They were out on a country road at the moment, but soon they would be traveling through a war-torn town. Aside from getting fuel and a bite to eat somewhere, he didn't expect they'd want to stay for long and it was probably more sanitary to stop and take a piss behind a bush than to do so in any facility they might find in town. He pulled the car over to a large oak tree and he cut the engine.

"Right then, let's have a breather." He nudged William, who had his cap low over his face to mask his eyes from the sun. "Wakey-wakey, Spears. Your li'l friend wants a pit stop, and I could stand to empty my bladder as well."

Will made a most unbecoming sound in the form of a snort as he jerked awake. "Secure the perimeter," he muttered, obviously caught in some dream.

"Snap out of it, lad," chuckled the Undertaker. "We're in a motorcar on the road. That's it, come back to us."

William pulled his hat off of his face and crammed it on his head, squinting behind the shaded lenses of his prescription shades. "Where are we?" he yawned.

"'Bout an hour from Erfert, on the road to Nuremburg. We could be there by dinnertime if we keep our stop in Erfert brief. Need fuel, though." Undertaker tapped the fuel gauge with a gloved finger. "That was the one thing I forgot to do before we left, but we should be able to find a fuel station in the little town we're going through."

He opened the door and stepped out of the car, patting the hood. "Hurry up, chaps. We're on a schedule."

William sighed and pushed his door open to get out. He helped Ronald open the back passenger door since the inside handle was damaged, and then he looked around for his own spot to relieve himself. "Coffee would be lovely right now, but I suppose I shall have to wait on that luxury. That tree and the surrounding bushes seem concealed enough." He nodded in the direction he spoke of and he patted Ronald on the shoulder.

"Dun' have ta tell me!" Ron said, already hurrying over to the tree to stand behind before he unzipped his fly so he could relieve himself. "Ahhhh better..."

Once he was finished, he zipped back up and stretched as he wandered back towards the car. "How long have we been driving, anyway? I think I dozed off."

"A li'l over an hour," answered the mortician. "You two haven't been out for very long. In fact it's just the right time for Willy to take over. Map's in the glove compartment if y' need it. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a bush to water."

While he was doing that, William slipped into the driver's seat and checked the fuel reading. It looked as though they had just enough to make it to the settlement they were going to be passing through. Ronald was outside stretching his muscles and the Undertaker came back from relieving himself and claimed the back seat.

"Don't forget about the map," reminded the ancient as he took a page from William's book and put his hat over his face as he lay down on the seat. He was too tall to stretch out properly, so he unrolled the window and stuck his calves and feet out of it.

"Oh sir, really," complained William upon glancing in the rearview mirror to see what he'd done. "What are people going to think if they see a pair of legs sticking out from the back of this vehicle?"

Undertaker snickered. "They'll think you're carrying a dead comrade, I imagine. I can fake it if we run into any Nazi militia and need a good story. Just tell them I fell to the enemy and you're delivering me to Nuremburg for an autopsy. The map, Willy. We don't want to get lost."

William produced his navigator from his pocket. "No need for that. I have an electronic device to tell me where I need to go. Ronald? It's time we got going."

"Alright." Ronald sighed, opening the passenger door and sliding in. "Let's get to the gassing station."

As they drove along the roads to their destination, William attempted to find a radio station to listen to. Everything was in German though, and it was mostly Reich propaganda, so he clicked it off with a sigh. It was foolish of him to expect to find any music to make the ride easier. He glanced over at Ronald and he smirked at the boy's utterly bored expression. He couldn't look more miserable if he tried. Checking the rearview mirror to be sure the Undertaker was still sleeping, he reached across and put a hand on Ronald's knee.

"Pity you brought no reading material or word puzzles to occupy yourself with. If you like, I have a couple of books in my luggage and we can retrieve one of them from it at the next pit-stop."

"Still trying to get me to be bookie in my free time?" Ronald teased, glancing over at William and placing his hand over the one on his knee, "I wish I had brought my Shinigami radio transverter. Brings Reaper radio to mortal radios. But I never would have thought we'd end up on a road trip."

William nodded, stroking his thumb over Ronald's. "That would have been handy. Perhaps when we get the opportunity to return to the other side again you could contact Slingby to express mail it to our next reaper address. That would require for us to remain in a given location for more than one day, however...unless he or one of your other friends could find the time to teleport directly to us."

Even as he said it, William could hardly believe he was suggesting such a thing. It then occurred to him that he missed catching up on the goings-on of their realm as much as Ronald did. He was getting homesick for reaper London.

A snore from the back seat interrupted his thoughts and he shot a smirk over his shoulder at his old mentor. "At least one of us doesn't seem to be overly troubled by being far from home."

"Pardon me for saying this, but I think that guy feels right at home in any cemetery, to be honest. I mean, why else would he want all our meetings to be there? He's comfortable there, clearly, so it'd be like home." Ronald said, glancing back at the much older man. He then sighed, the sound long and sad, "I really miss home. Funny thing is, I miss silly things more than my usual pubs and clubs. I miss the people and being able to actually go home to sleep. I've had long assignments before, but nothing like this."

"Hmm, point taken," conceded William. "I would have liked to visit this country under better circumstances. Our situation makes it quite easy to miss home, I'm afraid."

He somewhat envied the older reaper then, in his ability to find some nook to fit in regardless of where he went or what was going on around him. People could make fun all they liked, but the Undertaker was a survivor. William glanced in the rearview mirror again as the mortician snorted in his sleep and rolled over, and he started to smile in spite of himself.

"Madmen are surprisingly versatile."

"It'd be worse if they weren't...don't you think?" Ron said, turning around to glance at Undertaker, "I mean, if they weren't then I imagine they wouldn't take well to any sort of changes, stuck in the past and witnessing their worlds falling apart around them. I imagine it'd break them further."

William frowned at that observation. He'd never really thought about how tenuous the Undertaker's hold on sanity really was, but Ronald put it into perspective and reminded him that it might not take much to make the mortician snap again. He looked at the road again, and he abruptly slammed on the breaks when a figure appeared in the middle of it, staring right at him. His and Ronald's seatbelts fortunately kept them both from going through the windshield, but the Undertaker wasn't strapped in and his body rolled off the back seat to slam against the back of the front ones.

It was an effective wakeup call and the ancient sat up, sputtering. His hair was in his eyes as his head popped up between the driver and passenger seats, sans hat. "What in bloody hell?"

William had no words. His heart was hammering in his chest as he stared at the now-empty road before him with wide eyes. The woman that had come out of nowhere was gone as if she'd never been there, and he couldn't even be certain she'd truly existed to begin with. He swallowed and tried to gather his thoughts, glancing sidelong at his swearing partner.

"I...thought I saw...but it must have been my imagination..."

"What in the fucking titty-fuck!" Ron cursed, gasping. He'd gotten the wind knocked out of him between his safety belt holding him in place and Undertaker's body knocking into the back of his seat quite hard. "I doubt what I said warranted you slamming on your breaks like that! Rhea, Will!"

William flushed in humiliation. "I thought I saw something in the road ahead, and I did not wish to hit it."

"Like what?" demanded the Undertaker. "A squirrel? I never picked you to be the sort to worry about running over the fuzzies."

"I...it appeared to be a person," muttered William uncertainly. "I was mistaken."

Undertaker leaned over the seats to peer at him with his penetrating gaze. "A person, eh? Just standing in the middle of the road, chap? I'm thinking mayhap you ought to take a break from driving and let Mr. Knox take over for a bit."

William sighed and shut his eyes. "I'm fine."

"I don't know...Maybe it is my turn to drive. Seeing phantom people isn't...you know...safe." Ron muttered.

At once, Will felt ridiculous. He blushed scarlet as he put the vehicle into park and opened the door to get out. "Perhaps you are right. I must be more tired than I imagined, and I'd rather not put all of our safety at risk. Exchange seats with me, Ronald."

Undertaker watched with a thoughtful expression as the younger reapers got out of the car to trade places. Once William was inside and buckled into the passenger seat again, he tapped him on the shoulder. "Care to talk about it, lad?"

William glanced at him and he shook his head, trying his best not to allow the incident to shake him up. "There is nothing to discuss, sir. I merely imagined it."

"Hmm, did you?" For once, the mortician wasn't smiling. "Was it a man or a woman, William?"

"Female," answered the brunet shortly. "It matters not. It was only a trick to my eyes." He looked uncomfortably at Ronald, imagining how insane this conversation must sound to him. "I shall nap for a while. Perhaps more rest will clear my head."

After shifting the car into gear and getting back on their way down the road, Ronald reached over with his free hand and took William's, giving it a comforting squeeze, but saying nothing as he kept his eyes on the road.

Something was definitely going on...and it was getting worse.

William rested his head back against the seat, and he returned the pressure of Ronald's hand. He knew Ronald wasn't fooled by his reassurances that it was nothing to fret over. He could tell by the tension he sensed from him, and he wondered if there was anything he could say or do to alleviate his obvious concern. William himself was worried though, and as much as he wanted to believe he had a handle on things, he felt his self-control slipping little by little.

The Undertaker had lain back down and covered his face with his hat again, but William could imagine the thoughts churning in that brilliant, insane mind of his. As much as Ronald understood something wasn't right, the Undertaker was probably the only being alive that could actually relate to him. As William tried to get some rest, he did a thing which he had not done since before he joined Dispatch. He began to silently pray to the gods, begging them not to let him follow his old mentor into madness.

When they stopped in the next town to refuel and find something to eat, the Undertaker pulled William aside while Ronald pumped the gas and he spoke in a low voice.

"You aren't just imagining things, Willy," explained the mortician. "I see them too, from time to time."

William kept his expression as neutral as possible. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, sir."

"Don't you?" Undertaker grinned, but there was something humorless and cold to it. "You never were any good at lying to me, boy."

William sighed and looked across the distance at Ronald and the car. "Tell me why this is happening, then. How bad will it get?"

Undertaker shrugged. "That depends on you, Spears. You see, we reapers are caught between the world of the living and the dead, and when we start to snap, that barrier gets thinner. If we can't keep it balanced we start slipping, and those two worlds start merging for us."

"And how do I keep it balanced, sir?"

The mortician chuckled. "Ah, if I knew that I wouldn't be mad, now would I? All I can suggest to you is that you focus on something that keeps your feet on the ground. Think of what keeps you here in the world of the living, yeah? I didn't have anything to use as a focal point, but there may be some hope for you."

William's gaze stayed on Ronald. "Yes...I do have something of value here. I...am sorry that you felt alone, sir. I would have been there for you, had you allowed it."

The Undertaker sighed and he patted Will's shoulder. "Where I was going, I didn't want you to follow. Doesn't matter now, though. Let's not live in the past and worry about catching up with this lich."

William nodded, and he shoved his regrets to the back of his mind. He still believed there might be hope for the Undertaker, but he couldn't worry about that right now. He would have the opportunity to try one last time to help his old mentor once this mission ended. For now, he had other priorities. He walked over to the car just as Ronald finished fueling it up and he opened up the passenger door. "Are you all right to continue driving, Ronald, or would you like for one of us to take over?"

Ronald sighed, rubbing his eye with his sleeve before replacing his glove. "Truthfully...I don't think I should last much longer. I didn't get quite enough sleep last night, it seems. But..." He bit his lip and lowered his voice, "I don't like the idea of you pushing yourself too much right now. I may not understand what's happening, but I know I don't like it, and I'll do what I can to help you."

William didn't know how to respond to that. He wished he could say something to instill confidence in the younger man, but Undertaker came over at that moment to get into the car and William really didn't want to discuss it in front of him. Perhaps later on, he and Ronald could have some time alone and he could talk more in depth with him about it.

"I feel fine now," William said—which was true enough. "I can drive us to our destination, Ronald. It should only be a couple of hours, if our calculations are correct. If I begin to feel...off...I shall pull over immediately and request that someone else take the wheel. You should have a nap."

Ronald nodded and moved around to the passenger side, "Don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything." he said before climbing in and strapping himself down.

Even if Will just needed to talk...Ronald didn't mind him waking him from his nap.

Nuremburg wasn't in as bad of shape as they expected, when they arrived. It was obvious that the ravages of war had touched it, but most of the buildings were intact—though pockmarked with bullets. They made it to the location without further incident and there were Nazi soldiers patrolling the streets. William showed his false identification to the guards at the entrance and it occurred to him that he had no idea what alias the Undertaker was going under.

"We were separated from our regiment," he explained as the guards looked into the vehicle. "We are on our way to rejoin them to the south, but we require food and rest before moving on."

"Of course," said the inspecting officer after looking at William and Ronald's identification. "And you, sir? Do you have some form of identification as well?"

Undertaker held one gloved finger up and he dug around in his uniform pocket. "Here you are," he said, handing it over. The officer inspected it, glancing between the mortician and the identification badge before handing it back. He motioned for the other guards to move aside.

"You may pass," he informed William. "There is a cafeteria in the square, where we have set up our barracks. Simply show your identification and they will feed you. I believe your regiment may have passed through here just two days ago, sir. You aren't far behind them."

"Thank you," answered William. "We shall leave at dawn, then."

The officer saluted him sharply and clicked his heels before walking away, leaving William to drive through unimpeded. The brunet sighed in relief, glad to have gotten through without any hassle. The uniforms and the fake documentation were certainly coming in handy for them. He could just imagine the difficulties they would have faced trying to move freely through the country without them. He noticed Ronald covering a yawn from the corner of his eye and he looked at him.

"We will find a place to sleep soon," he promised, "after we've eaten. I would rather not sleep in the barracks if we can avoid it, but we may have no other choice."

"We could always find a nice graveyard to settle in for the night," suggested the Undertaker.

"No cemeteries," insisted William tightly. "While I realize you sleep well in coffins, I'm afraid the same cannot be said of Mr. Knox and myself."

"No matter what, we'll not be able to snuggle in together." Ron let himself pout. "Just when I'm getting used to snuggling with you, too."

He wasn't going to hide it from Undertaker. The man had seen them sleeping in the same bed, after all. And the room had provided two beds for use.

"You could cuddle in a coffin," urged the mortician with a grin. "Quite snugly, I might add."

"No," Will repeated sternly, feeling like he was addressing a child rather than a reaper several hundred years his elder. "We are not spending the night in a graveyard, Undertaker. That is the end of it."

The Undertaker sighed in a dejected manner and sat back in his seat, practically sulking. "Fine, then. Best hope this place isn't hit with an air strike tonight. Sleeping underground has its practical purposes at a time like this, y' know."

William groaned softly. He hadn't considered that, and air strikes from the opposition was a very real danger to consider. He and Ronald had born witness to such events more than he would have liked, after all. "Perhaps we could take that into consideration," he amended reluctantly, "but I would rather sleep on a cold stone floor than exhume human remains from a casket and sleep in it."

"Suit yourself." The Undertaker shrugged.

"I like my wiggle room." Ronald agreed, "And...at worse, an air raid would only hang us up in the reaper hospital for a good while...right?"

"Enjoy getting blown up, do you?" Undertaker snorted. "You're either a very brave lad or a very foolish one."

"He is merely reluctant to literally sleep with the dead," defended William, "as any sane person should be."

"Careful, Willy," admonished the mortician. "You might not be as sane as you think you are."

William let the barb slide, and he turned down one of the streets that should take them to the city square. "Say what you will, sir. I am not going to argue this matter further with you. The cemetery is an option for consideration but not one that I am particularly in favor of, if it can be avoided."

"Besides, I already was almost blown up once." Ron shrugged. "Looks like that's what the guy was talking about, Will." he said, pointing ahead at an area heavy with military activity.

William nodded and he pulled up to a curb before cutting the engine. "Well, let us see what kind of meals they have to offer."

"Potatoes, most likely," sighed the Undertaker. "What I wouldn't give for a nice, roasted chicken or some collard greens, right now."

"Whether it's potatoes or something else, we need to eat something," William insisted. He opened the door and got out of the car. "You complain a lot for someone who cannot afford to be terribly choosy, Undertaker. Many people must go without food in this country, these days."

"Tell me that again when we end up with mouth scurvy from eating too much of the same thing," grumbled the ancient. "A man can't live on potatoes alone."

William hid a smile. Undertaker's appetite had always been hearty, and the man enjoyed variety. "We shan't get scurvy," he promised. "We can seek out a butcher while we are here, perhaps, and we can cook up our own meals tomorrow. Surely the military is getting their supplies from somewhere. We can ask around."

With a sigh, Undertaker tightened his belt and got out of the car to join him.

"I'm never eating another potato again in my life after this war's finally over." Ron groaned, already smelling cooked potatoes, "Germans do know there are more options in the world, right?"

William sighed. "Of course they do. There is actually a wide array of dishes on the cultural menu, such as sauerkraut, Schwarzwälder Schinken—better known as 'Black Forest Ham' in English, the famous pretzel and all manner of baked goods. Unfortunately, potatoes just happen to be the most plentiful, affordable source of food in this part of the world at this time. When we get the opportunity, I shall treat you to a full course German meal—one that doesn't have to include potatoes."

"Am I invited?" Undertaker hopped over a puddle and grinned at his old student, mouth watering at the thought of having something more than root veggies as a meal.

"That would depend on your actions once we have taken care of the threat of this lich," answered William smoothly. "Though I would be happy to invite you to a meal, provided we do not end up as enemies, sir."

"So it'll be a date, or a party... either way, I'm in!" Ron grinned, walking around the car and joining the other two on the way into the barracks.

William checked a smile over Ronald's enthusiasm. "Good. Let's pencil that in, shall we?"

After a cheerless meal of potato soup that had both Ronald and Undertaker making faces as they ate, William made arrangements for them to sleep in the barracks with the mortal Nazi militia. Undertaker meanwhile used whatever tracking methods he had at his disposal to keep on top of their quarry's movements, and he assured them that they were still hot on the trail. As they bedded down in their bunk beds for the night, William sighed and stared up at the bed above him—which Ronald had claimed. He thought he could hear the hint of whispers at the edge of his consciousness, but the sound of the other occupants' snores, farts and mutterings made it difficult to be sure.

The top bunk creaked as Ronald squirmed fitfully and William impulsively reached up to poke at the underside springs of it. "Settle down, Ronald," he whispered to his partner. "I don't fancy the thought of you falling through this flimsy bedding to crush me."

"At least we'd have a reason to snuggle together again, if I did..." Ronald's voice muttered back. "Try to get some sleep, Will." he added, still obviously worried about the man. "I'll be here in the morning."

In the darkness, William smiled a bit. He closed his eyes and he took comfort in the fact that Ronald would be sleeping directly above him. "Good night, Ronald."

He sighed and he tried to relax his body. His efforts to fall asleep were thwarted when the Undertaker—sleeping in the bottom bunk across from them—snorted in his sleep, rolled over and started to argue with himself.

"No, you bloody idiot...powder th' biscuits with sugar after you put 'em in the oven...not before!"

William sighed and he grabbed his thin pillow out from under his head and crammed it over his face. "Why me..."

The next morning, Ronald was back to his stubborn self, trying to cling to sleep. While he didn't sleep great, it had been better than the no sleep he'd gotten the night before. But soon the sounds of Germans getting up and ready for the day around him forced him up and he groaned, rubbing his face with both hands as he sat up, shirtless.

William was likewise roused from his sleep and his hair was uncommonly mussed. He practically sleepwalked through getting dressed, only half-aware of his surroundings. Mortal soldiers were already up and about, but the Undertaker was still sleeping like an albino log in the other bunk. Annoyed, William tossed a shoe at him.

"Undertaker, we need to get moving."

The ancient snorted and waved blindly in William's general direction. "Five more minutes, brat."

William compressed his lips and he stood up abruptly—too abruptly. He smacked his head on the upper bunk and he cursed at the pain, blindly grabbing his abused skull with both hands. "Bloody hell! Argh! Undertaker, we cannot dally! You said that our quarry is on the move again. Please, wake up and ready yourself!"

Ronald leaned over, placing his hands on Will's shoulders and pressing his lips to the top of William's head in a quick kiss, "Settle down. We can shove him in the trunk if he refuses to get up," he joked.

William wasn't expecting the surprise kiss and he froze for a moment, feeling ridiculously warmed by the gesture. He tilted his head back to look up at the reaper leaning over the top bunk, and he tried to lighten his demeanor. "He might enjoy that a bit too much."

"At least he won't complain once he finally wakes up." Ron smirked before pulling back and grabbing his shirt—which was hanging on the bedpost.

"True." William sighed and stepped over to the Undertaker's bunk to retrieve his shoe. "Undertaker. Wake up."

He then did something that had him grimacing, for he never would have even dreamed of doing such a thing to his mentor in the past. He slapped the mortician's pale cheeks on either side to rouse him. It evidently did the trick, because the Undertaker sat up and flailed angrily at him.

"Oi, what do ya think you're doing!"

"Waking you up," stated William flatly—though he prudently took a step back.

The mortician glared balefully from beneath his mussed silver bangs, and then he blinked upon recognizing the blurred figure before him. "Oh, Willy." He covered his mouth with one hand as he yawned. "Been up for long, have you?"

"Long enough." Ron yawned, hopping down off the bunk to slip into his slacks and finish getting into uniform. "At least, long enough to discuss shoving you in the trunk with the luggage rather than try and wake you. That was my vote."

"No respect for your elders," grumbled the Undertaker. Dressed only in his slacks, he tugged the covers down and sat up in the bed. William's eyes were drawn to the scars slashing over the mortician's albino flesh and he couldn't tear them away. Those scars...reapers did not scar easily. Generally it took a death scythe to permanently mar their flesh that way, but some demon claws were known to have properties that could do so as well.

"Was it a scythe?" William impulsively questioned, nodding at the elder reaper's bared torso, "or are they marks of combat with demons?"

He couldn't really imagine why the man would bear scythe wounds unless they occurred after his defection, but he'd never thought to ask before.

"Demons," answered the Undertaker as he gathered his things. "They carved me up good and proper before I dispatched them."

William nodded, remembering his own horror at seeing his mentor brought in a bloody mess. He'd never gotten the chance to see the extent of his injuries though, and now he wished he hadn't called attention to them. "Forgive me. I should not have pried."

Undertaker smirked at him as he slipped into his shirt and reached for the outer layers of his uniform. "It's a question you've had on mind for a good while now, yeah? No harm, William."

Ronald straightened his tie and put on his hat, "Would you mind sharing the story with us?" he asked curiously, "Once we are in the car and on our way, of course."

The Undertaker hesitated, lowering his shaggy silver head in thought. He'd excused William from asking questions but he seemed reluctant to go into details concerning the injuries and trauma he'd sustained before defecting from Dispatch. "I think, my lad, that is a story for another time. Mayhap with a bit of grog to wash it down with."

Even with everything the Undertaker had done over the years since leaving Dispatch, William still respected him. He thought that he could detect some anxiety from the elder as the man answered Ronald and he inwardly wished that he could do something for him. "Whenever you feel comfortable enough to share it, Undertaker. We may have a long road together ahead of us, so there is no hurry."

He did cast Ronald a covertly grateful look for at least encouraging the Undertaker to speak of it. He thought the blond would be the last person to want to hear of the mortician's personal story, given the amount of disrespect he'd shown him until William demanded otherwise. Even if Ronald was only showing an interest for Will's sake, it had meaning for him.

Ronald shrugged, "Whenever and if you are ever ready. I just thought it'd be interesting to hear. All I really know is the little they teach in school, which isn't much."

He straightened up and sighed, "I'm going to grab us some breakfast to go so we can head on out and try and catch this guy we're after," he said, walking off and leaving the two older reapers alone. He could tell they both had things to get off their chests, and he realized that maybe they would be better talking to each other rather than him. He was so young, after all, and couldn't relate much to what they had or were going through. He hated the idea that William didn't need him, but he still wanted to see Will get better.

"He's definitely a loyal one, your Ronald," observed the Undertaker when the young man left. "Seems to really fancy you, Willy. To my eyes it looks like the feeling's mutual."

"Hmm." William nodded, having no dispute with that and no idea how to respond. He finished dressing and he glanced at the older man as he put his hat on.

"You know that I'm not going to give up trying to convince you to come into Dispatch for psychological help when this is over."

Undertaker lowered his gaze and he smiled. "I'd expect no less of you, boy. It's too late for me, though. You'd best worry more about yourself, when all's said and done."

William sighed and he excused himself to look for Ronald while the Undertaker finished dressing.

Ronald was in the mess hall, gathering three bags of rations to go. Unfortunately, he couldn't get them any coffee to go, so they would have to go without, for now. Maybe canteens would be a good investment for them while they were on the road and not going back to their own realm at night to sleep and eat.

Once he finished, he hurried out to their commandeered car. William was there waiting for him, having put away what little they'd brought inside with them back into their bags in the trunk. He looked up as Ronald approached and he fought another inward struggle. Knox deserved to know how much his efforts were appreciated, but William feared that if he allowed himself to feel too much he might make himself even more vulnerable. He certainly didn't want to return home to Dispatch in the same manner as the Undertaker did, years ago.

"Everything is ready," informed William. He nodded towards the barracks. "The Undertaker should be out to join us shortly."

He looked at the sacks in Ronald's arms. He dearly hoped that whatever Ronald had procured for the road didn't have weevils in it like the boiled potato included with his meal the night before. There had only been a couple but Will had to force himself to eat the portion after digging them out and carefully checking each bite. He steeled himself and he nodded, tugging his uniform hat a bit lower over his shaded eyes.

"Well done on collecting food rations for us."

~Spears, you fool. That is no way to show your gratitude.~

But he was stiff inside and out...sore from sleeping on a flimsy, hard mattress and tense with dread of what was to become of them in the future. He never would have considered himself a fretful man before this all began. He'd learned to box that up after the Undertaker's defection and his first true reaping assignment with Sutcliff.

"...Sure." Ronald looked down at the bags as he set them down on the seat inside the car, "There wasn't much left by the time I got there, but I grabbed what I could. Luckily, there are Italian solders here, so I was able to successfully request bags to go."

William nodded and he began to say something else, but then the Undertaker approached from the Barracks, hair all tucked up under his hat again and somehow managing to look like a proper soldier. William honestly still couldn't figure out how the man managed to bundle up that much hair beneath an officer's cap and keep it in place without odd lumps in the material, but he recalled that the Undertaker had ways beyond mere physical of disguising himself if necessary—just like Grell.

"Well, are we off then?" The mortician sounded unreasonably cheerful as he opened the rear passenger door and got in. He might as well have been going on a summer cruise.

William glanced at Ronald and he nodded. "Yes, let us be going. I shall take the first driving shift."

"Here." Ron handed Undertaker one of the bags after he strapped himself in, "Sorry, there are more potatoes. Wasn't much to choose from." He then grabbed one to hand to Will, but hesitated, "Uh, do you want to wait on yours?"

William grimaced. "I believe that would be best, for now. Perhaps we may find better options in the next town." He glanced through the rearview mirror at his former mentor. Undertaker was already biting into his potato and he made a face and spit part of it out the rolled down window. "Or, we could take to the other side this evening and find better grocery options."

The Undertaker wiped his lips with his sleeve. "I'm not terribly keen on setting foot on the other side, Willy."

"Then you could wait," suggested William, "and possibly get a fire going for a camp whilst Ronald and I collect less rancid goods from our realm."

"So I'm to be 'camp boy'?" Undertaker smirked. "Just how much do you plan to drag back into this realm with you, Willy? Hate to sound like a defeatist, but this automobile can only hold so much."

"Only what we need to have a decent meal and somewhat clean bedding for the night." William felt the urge to scratch in various places, beginning to feel desperate to bathe. "And a good shower, if possible."

The Undertaker chuckled darkly. "If the violence of war doesn't drive you mad, the hunger and filth just might. Lead on then, Spears. Long as we stay on the trail and don't lose it, I s'pose we could set up a camp somewhere later and mask it from mortal view. Just be sure to pick a spot away from any settlements. It ought to be safe off the roads away from bombing targets for the night."

William nodded and he met Ronald's eyes for a moment, trying not to allow the feelings of desolation overcome him. "It appears I may have the opportunity to give you a sampling of what German cuisine can be like outside of rationing or overcrowded conditions, Ronald."

"I love that idea." Ron grinned, "Prove to me there's more than potatoes in this world!" He glared down into his breakfast bag, "I will not miss you," he told the potatoes.

Undertaker snickered and he began peeling his potato with his fingernails—which had gone from short to long on a whim. "I can't help but echo that sentiment. Now, as I recall Willy's actually quite the chef. I think I can be in charge of camp if it means sampling a good meal for a change."

He dug something dark out of potato, considered it and finally threw the remainder of the vegetable out the window. "I could scavenge for wild herbs if you like. Might make for some good seasoning."

William recalled the mortician's herb lore and he nodded. "That would save us a bit of trouble. I shall list what I need once we decide a place to settle for the night."

He thought of what they might need in order to procure some form of shelter for the night, and it occurred to him that they could probably sleep in the car. Still, it might be good to get waterproof tarp and some blankets. The nights did tend to get cold and they couldn't very well leave the motor running for heating without running out of fuel. There were military supply stores everywhere on the reaper side these days and most Dispatch agents could use proper identification alone to bill it to their respective divisions.

"I'm glad someone here does. I sure can't." Ron said, glancing at the man behind the wheel, "Most I could do is mix us up some drinks. So I guess I'll stick to assistant work on this trip."

"That will be fine," William assured. "All that I need is someone to help chop and hand the ingredients to me."

In yet another rare gesture of encouragement, William dared to reach across the way and rest his hand on Ronald's knee. "I can do the rest."

Ronald smiled, placing his hand on Will's. He wanted to tell him he loved him, but wasn't sure how it'd be received with Undertaker watching them, so he said nothing along those lines.

"I'm eager to try your cooking, Will."

* * *

-To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

They drove all day long, taking shifts as planned. They stopped in one small town to refuel and they passed a few completely ruined homesteads and villages along the way. Once it began to get dark, the Undertaker chose a place to pull off the road far enough away from settlements to be safe from Aerial bombings and ground combat. They parked the car behind some bushes and the mortician put into place an encompassing concealment that would hide their camp completely from mortal eyes—though demons and other reapers would be able to see through it. While he set up camp and scavenged around for basic herbs and edibles to snack on, the younger two reapers portaled back to the other side to purchase the rest from reaper grocers.

William selected some veal from the butcher's, a head of red cabbage from the farmer's market, some flour, eggs, vegetable oil and bread crumbs and while Ronald loaded all of that into a grocery sack, he also purchased some cooking utensils and the rest of what he needed to make a complete meal with a side dish. He stopped Ronald from eating one of the green apples he'd purchased to go along with it and he reminded him that they would be part of the meal.

"Patience," admonished William. "I know you are hungry but if you eat the ingredients, tonight's meal will be a bit of a disappointment."

He smirked a little at the younger reaper. "Perhaps I should carry the sack of groceries and leave you to carry the camping necessities, hmm?"

Ronald flushed and slowly put the apple back into the sack, "I was hoping you had an apple or two extra..." Ron sighed. "What all do we have left to get?" he rested his chin on William's shoulder from behind.

William looked over his list and he hummed thoughtfully. "We could probably do without the solar shower, considering we can easily traverse the realms and shower at any Dispatch facility we like...though I daresay the Undertaker may begin to ripen a bit, before long. This may take a bit longer than I thought. Ronald, why don't you take the groceries to the local Dispatch hub and take the opportunity to bathe whilst I gather the rest of our supplies? I'll shower afterwards and then we can return to our campsite so that I may prepare dinner. Pick up something to snack on while you take your break, if you are terribly famished."

Ronald blinked at the list, "Are we on a road trip or are we building a house?! Will! I think that's going way overboard! No way do we need a ton of that stuff. You may as well add an electric generator and a kitchen sink!"

Will flushed. "I don't intend to collect _everything_ on this list. I merely wrote down things to consider getting while here. Now go and get cleaned up while I decide what to collect and what to scratch off of this list."

"Well...okay." Ronald started to pull back, but then stopped, "Hey, could you maybe grab me some pajama bottoms? It'd feel weird to sleep in my boxers in front of Undertaker. Before, it wouldn't be a problem...but since I'm with you, now...it just seems right to be a little more modest on this trip. Warmer, too." He requested, kissing the shell of the man's ear.

William shivered impulsively at the brief, teasing caress of Ron's lips on his ear. "Yes, I can do that. I am sure I can find something suitable on the way to the surplus shop. I shall try to be quick." He smirked. "And I promise not to purchase a kitchen sink to go along with everything."

"Thank you, Will." Ron smiled, giving the man's butt a squeeze before turning on his way to get a light snack and a nice hot shower.

William jumped a bit in response to the spontaneous grope, and his face flushed. He glanced around to see if anyone noticed and was staring, but the few reapers moving about the small town were too busy with their own affairs to pay attention to a small display of affection. Glancing down at his list again, he tried to pull his head out of the gutter and concentrate on the task at hand.

* * *

Undertaker paced around the camp and he slipped his gloves back on to warm his hands. He clicked his tongue against his mouth and he removed his hat to let his hair down. The length and thickness of it provided a little extra warmth against the elements like a cloak, but he was sincerely considering opening up the trunk of the car and digging his regular clothing out to change into. He wasn't usually given to being bothered by the cold, but the uniform wasn't as insulated as his usual layers.

"What's taking those lads so bloody long?" groused the mortician, hopping a little in place. It was going on three hours now and he was hungry. He walked over to the small fire he'd set up and started, and he crouched before it and held his hands out for warmth. He did this for another fifteen minutes before he got up again and went to the car, digging the keys out of his pocket.

"Bugger it, I'll change into something more comfy."

Of course, stripping down out in the open would be quite uncomfortable, but he doubted he could do it inside the car with his long limbs and height. He opened up the trunk and he located his luggage, digging out his pants, boots, hat and robes. He glanced around and he shrugged. There was nobody to offend out here, save the wildlife. Walking back to the fire to help ward off the chill while he was changing, the Undertaker stripped off his uniform and started putting on his mortician garb.

He only managed to get one bare leg into his pants before a portal opened up and his companions stepped through. Standing there in nothing but his flowing silver hair with one calf partially covered, he stared open-mouthed at them both, at a loss for what to do. He considered diving for cover, but he'd recognized poison oak in the bushes and he was in no rush to come down with a nasty rash...especially in more sensitive places.

William was too preoccupied with lugging the oversized sack of supplies he had slung over his back to notice the mortician's nudity right away. "Undertaker, I apologize for the wait," he began to say. "There was rather a bit more to gather than I...thought..."

William trailed off at the sight of his former mentor staring at them in the buff with his mouth hanging open. "Oh. I was not expecting...pardon me."

He quickly turned around, nearly hitting Ronald with the cumbersome bag of supplies in the process.

"Er...hi, hi," greeted the Undertaker, for lack of anything better to say.

Ronald couldn't look away, his eyes wide with shock at seeing so much exposed, deathly white skin. Every jagged scar was visible, every inch of long, slender body was on display for all to see, save for the man's back, which was covered with his long silver hair.

Realizing he was staring, Ronald flushed and tore his gaze away, "I didn't realize we had a full moon tonight," he joked to try and cover up the awkwardness he felt.

The Undertaker worked faster to get dressed. He wasn't particularly embarrassed. He practically lacked a sense of shame and there was a time before he became scarred and twisted when he had quite a selection of lovers. He did regret making his young companions feel more uncomfortable around him than they already did though, and he'd seen how quickly Will blushed before turning his back to him, and Ronald turned just as pink.

"Begging your pardon, chaps," said the mortician as he yanked his pants up and reached for his shirt. "Your timing was a tad unfortunate, is all. I got cold waiting out here and wanted t' put on more layers."

"By stripping down to the nude?" Scoffed William, face aflame. He'd never seen so much of his mentor before and he really didn't know how to feel about it. He replaced the mental picture with the memory of Ronald's tanned, lithe body. _That_ image didn't confuse him at all.

"Well I can't rightly change clothes without stripping first," reasoned the mortician. "I'm decent enough now. You can both turn around. The moon's safely hidden behind the clouds again." He chuckled with amusement over the awkward moment, shaking his silver head as he reached for his boots and began to put them on.

"Why not just add layers? I'm sure it's warmer that way rather than getting all naked and shit." Ron suggested, turning around and setting down his sack, but not making eye contact with the elder.

"'Cause the bloody uniform was too stiff and itchy. I missed my soft robes." Undertaker finished putting the rest of his layers on and he folded up the uniform to be put back. He paused on the way to the car and he stared at the bulging supply bag William was lowering to the ground.

"Good gracious, Willy," exclaimed the Undertaker. "Did you pack a toilet in there too? Mayhap a bedroom suite and a stove?"

William sighed. "Ronald said something similar and I'll have you both know that it contains necessities. Cooking utensils, blankets, a waterproof tarp, drinking canteens...things of that sort. We do not know how long we may be traveling without access to a civilized town on this side and I would rather have the supplies we may need than find I need something and not have it."

Undertaker's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of that. "So you're saying you packed a bunch of rubbish we don't need right now because we might need it later. There's a word for that, William: packrat."

Ronald slapped his hand across his mouth to hold back a laugh.

"Ehrm." he cleared his throat and kicked a split log for the fire over to use as a seat, "How are we gonna cook our not potatoes?"

"With some of the supplies I brought—presuming the two of you have no objections to having your meal prepared by a 'packrat'." William felt slightly miffed by the teasing, but he smirked at his old mentor, rising to the challenge.

The Undertaker spread his hands. "I can take a hint, love. No more teasing tonight. I don't want to be sent to bed hungry."

"Very wise choice," approved William. "Undertaker, if you would be so kind as to take four eggs from the carton in the grocery supply bag and crack them into this bowl to beat them with a teaspoon of oil, I'll begin preparing the veal. Ronald, your beginning task is simple. I need you to please shred the red cabbage and slice up the two apples I bought. You can put them all in this pot. Tonight we'll be having Wiener Schnitzel and a side of spiced German red cabbage."

Ronald was briefly distracted, having not expected the Undertaker to call William 'Love'. It had always been 'Willy' or something funny like that. Never an enduring term of affection. It made the thought that the two's history together might not have been so platonic, after all. But the thought was fleeting as he was given his task.

"Right!" he hopped up and grabbed the apples to cut up first.

* * *

Some time later, they were enjoying the result of Will's cooking on tin plates he'd picked up, eating with multi utensils designed specifically for camping. The Undertaker played with his utensils at first, until William reminded him that they were for eating, not playing. When the ancient excused himself after the meal to relieve his bladder, William watched him go with a sigh and a shake of his head.

"How can such a brilliant man fall so far?" muttered Will to Ronald. "Sometimes he seems to have the mind of a child, while other times, he's the calculating genius I used to know. It aches my heart."

He shook himself out of it and he glanced at Ronald's nearly finished plate. "How do you like it?"

"It's so good!" Ron grinned, "And I'm not just saying that because there are no potatoes." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to William's cheek. "It really is good!"

The compliment brought a hint of a smile to William's face, and he was able to put aside his frustration with Undertaker for a moment. He watched the way the firelight flickered over Ronald's features and he simply took a moment to enjoy it.

Ron smiled and slid over on the log they were using as a seat for the three of them, closing the space between them, "You can cook for me any time, Will," he added as he slipped an arm around William's waist.

William took advantage of the Undertaker's momentary absence to allow himself the liberty of brushing his lips against Ronald's hair. "When this is over and I have a proper stove, I will delight in treating you to a full range of good cuisine, Ronald. The meal tonight wasn't cooked quite evenly due to a lack of a stove, but..."

He trailed off when he noticed a flash of lights in the distance, followed by a sound that resembled Thunder. William slowly stood up, staring at the horizon. They were too far away to hear more than the concussive blasts, but it was quite obvious that another bombing was taking place in the settlement far in the distance.

William sighed and shut his eyes. "And so it begins anew."

Undertaker was coming out from the bushes and he too was looking off into the distance as he approached the campfire. His twisted smirk showed a marked lack of his usual enthusiasm. "Like I said, chaps: He tends to go where the meals are richest."

Ronald frowned. He didn't want to go towards the bombs. Not because it wasn't safe, but because of what it would do to William. Even now he could see how William was reacting to it. Briefly, he wished that he were the senior reaper on the trip, rather than William. He wished he could order Will to stay at camp while he and Undertaker went to search for their target.

"Are we going to make our move...tonight?" he asked.

The Undertaker shook his head. "Give him a chance to feed and get lazy. He tends to take off sooner if he feels me closing in on him, my lads. There's nothing we can do for tonight. We'll follow after him in the morning and hope we catch up in time t' put and end to him before the next slaughter."

William shivered and he set down his plate, losing all interest in what little remained of his meal. The Undertaker noticed, and he nodded at the plate. "Finish that, Willy. Keep your strength up."

William shook his head, and he reached up to clutch the sides of it. He could hear the whispers growing stronger, and each distant blast seemed to strike him directly in the soul. He tried to tell himself that they were just mortals...just pages in the book of existence. It wasn't working, though. His connection to this war was quickly unraveling his self-control...and it wasn't simply because of mortal death or the reason behind it. Someone even more dangerous than his former mentor was literally unraveling things, and William felt like he was failing his organization. His pride…his honor…all of it was becoming more meaningless to him by the day.

"You speak as though it's nothing more than an evening at home," William rasped, trying to block out the sounds of the bombs and the increasingly louder noise in his head.

"Will? Are you okay?" Ronald moved in front of William and he placed his hands on either side of his face. The man looked so pained, and he didn't even seem to be hiding it any longer. Was it really getting that bad?

"He's hearing the cries of the dead and dying," explained Undertaker, swaying a little on his feet. "I hear them too."

"And yet you don't seem to care," accused William tightly. He took a shaken breath and he started to rock back and forth. "Gods, they're so...loud!"

Ronald felt even more confused, but the only thing he could think of to do to help was to reach up and press his hands over William's ears to try and block the sounds that the Undertaker said William was hearing. The mortician snorted with amusement over the naive but compassionate gesture, and William's tension faded a bit in response. It didn't help to quiet the noise since it was all in his head, but he opened his eyes and gazed at his partner in silent gratitude for trying.

"Thank you, Ronald," he whispered, "but I'm afraid you cannot muffle it that way."

The Dispatch supervisor rested his hands over the ones covering his ears, and he managed a slight smile of appreciation, hoping it would ease Ronald's concern. "I shall manage, somehow. This was a thoughtful gesture of you, though."

The Undertaker watched the pair and he felt the stirrings of something in his breast that he couldn't immediately identify. After a moment, he recognized it as envy. As stiff and monotone as Spears could be, he obviously had a bond with his young assistant that went beyond what they'd once shared, back in the day. The ancient couldn't recall the last time he'd had another gaze at him that way...worry over him and comfort him. He hadn't taken a lover for decades, and upon witnessing their closeness and warmth, he found himself longing for a companion.

Ronald bit back the frustration he felt as he gazed up into William's eyes. "I don't understand what is happening to you." he admitted in a low voice, "But I want to help... How can I help you, Will?"

William considered the question, and he honestly wished he had a positive answer for him. He could think of nothing Ronald could do, however, and he'd made it his policy not to lie to him since getting close. "You can't. I wish it were otherwise, but—"

"Excuse me William," interrupted the Undertaker, "but before you finish that sentence, could I have a word alone with you?"

Annoyed by the interruption, William gave the elder an exasperated look. "Can it not wait?"

Undertaker shook his head. "I don't think so, Willy. I need to say it while the thought is still in my head. It should only take a few minutes."

William sighed, and he gave Ronald a faintly apologetic look. "Please excuse us for a moment."

He got up and he followed the mortician into the cover of the trees, leaving Ronald at the camp. "All right, what is this about?" He demanded once they were alone together. "Your timing could not have been more awful."

"Or my timing couldn't have been better," countered the Undertaker. "You were saying there's nothing your attractive young friend can do for you, but that's far from the truth."

William bristled. "I am not going to ask Ronald for sexual favors to distract me from my issues, if that is what you're implying."

The mortician sighed, and he shook his head. "Wasn't suggesting that in the slightest, Willy. It's fairly obvious to me he's got a calming effect on you, though. He's already expressed a desire to help you, lad. If I'd had someone like that at my side when things went to pot for me, I might not be this far gone now."

William frowned as a surge of emotion went through him. "You still have options, sir. Our...I mean _my_ organization still respects you...still honors the sacrifices you've made. You don't have to be alone."

The Undertaker smirked and lowered his gaze. "Think so, do you? Ah, but I've chosen my path, love." He stepped closer and he reached out to stroke William's hair, demonstrating a fondness he hadn't expressed since the brunet was training under his guidance. "I'm too far gone, William. I know that, even if you don't. I'd rather not see you follow me into the darkness, though."

He drew William into a hesitant embrace, unpracticed now in the exchange of affection. He sighed against Will's ear when the younger reaper stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. "Trust in your Ronnie, William," he whispered. "He may become all that stands between you and inescapable madness, in the end."

* * *

Ronald had watched as William and Undertaker disappeared from his sight, and he sighed, picking up a stick to poke at the dying fire. It'd need fresh wood soon, and he figured that William was busy trying to make heads or tails of whatever madness Undertaker decided needed to be said, so he decided to see what he could gather and help keep the three of them warm through the night.

Grabbing the hatchet that Undertaker had brought with him, he set out to gather dry wood that wasn't sitting on the damp ground. It didn't take long as he found an old dead tree that was still standing, and he quickly chopped and broke branches off to use, gathering them in his arms to take back and keep the fire going.

 _"You still have options, sir. Our...I mean my organization still respects you...still honors the sacrifices you've made. You don't have to be alone."_ Ronald heard William say in a low voice.

 _"Think so, do you? Ah, but I've chosen my path, love."_ Came the husky reply of the elder who normally spoke in a comical tone.

Ronald didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it couldn't be helped. He hadn't known exactly where the two had gone, and he was only making his way back to the dim glow of embers in their fire pit. And Undertaker's words gave him pause for a second time that day.

There it was again. _'Love'_ . The Undertaker called William his love, once more. This time, the thoughts in the young reaper's mind weren't as fleeting, and he crept towards where he had heard the voices.

The evening was growing darker, but Ronald could still see the two as silhouettes in the darkness. The taller man was reaching out and caressing the younger, before pulling him into an embrace.

Ronald felt as though his heart had stopped and dropped to the pit of his stomach. Maybe he had been right...they had been more than just junior and senior working together...and maybe those feelings had never left either of them...

Swallowing hard, Ronald tore his gaze away and turned to hurry back to camp, his foot getting caught on a root and sending him to the damp ground, his gathered timber and logs scattering about with loud thunks against the dirt and brush.

"Shit!" he cursed, pushing himself up and trying to gather the wood again, quickly.

Unaware of Ronald's plight, William was struggling to absorb all that he'd heard from his former mentor. "Do you mean to tell me that you think the cure for my ailment is to simply be with someone?"

Undertaker shook his head. "No, lad." He stepped back from him. "I'm saying that your one hope to overcome this may just be in your partner. When those voices get too loud, just focus on him."

William sighed, and he turned back to camp, remembering Ronald saying much the same to him. "I can't bring myself to speak with him frankly on this matter. He obviously isn't suffering the same ailment as myself, and he said himself that he cannot understand it. I fear it's too great a burden on him."

"I very much doubt Mr. Knox thinks of you as a 'burden', Willy," remarked the Undertaker as he fell into step with him. "Death knows I'm no expert on relationships, but it seems t' me that boy would follow you into Hell itself, if you asked him to. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

William didn't respond to that, too deep in his own thoughts and struggling to shut out the whispers and cries in his mind. How the Undertaker managed to concentrate through all of this ruckus was beyond him. He saw Ronald gathering wood at the edge of camp and he approached him.

"I apologize for the interruption," he said politely, while the elder went back to the fire to poke at it. "It was mostly just his mad babbling."

"Mostly?" Ronald asked, straightening up with his arms loaded back up with his gathering. He shook his head and put on a smile to cover his hurt. No matter what, he'd still be there for William. Even if it wasn't in a romantic sense. And the man didn't need him suddenly acting cold. Not while they were in Germany, at least.

"It's alright. He's probably more help than me, anyway. Ya'know, cuz he understands what I don't."

The blond began to carefully make his way back to the fire and unload his arms without tripping again.

William stared after him, sensing that something wasn't right but unable to pinpoint what. His head hurt and he rubbed his temples with a sigh. Perhaps some aspirin would help. He returned to the camp and he went to the car to open the trunk and locate the small bottle within his belongings. He shook two of the white capsules out of the bottle and he tossed them into his mouth, rinsing them down with water from his canteen. He watched as Ronald added wood to the fire, absently screwing the lid back onto the bottle of aspirin.

_~How can I share this with you, Ronald? How can I lean on you as you wish, without putting even more weight on your young shoulders?~_

He wondered if this was how the Undertaker might have felt about him when he began to slip. Obviously their relationship dynamic wasn't the same as Will and Ronald's, but after the discussion he'd just had with his former mentor, he was beginning to understand what it was like not to want to drag someone else down with him. He had much greater reasons than the Undertaker to hold back. His romantic interest in Ronald made it doubly important for him not to burden him with his issues.

_~Could this be...love?~_

William was so unfamiliar with the sentiment that it startled him to realize the truth of it. He stared at his morose companion, helpless to think of how to reassure him or communicate his feelings. He spotted his plate on the ground and he walked over to dispose of the last remaining bite and clean off the plate. His eyes strayed to Ronald as he poured a bit of water over the plate and wiped it off. How he longed to just put his arms around him and take comfort in him, but he'd spent a lifetime trying to deny such basic needs. He noticed the Undertaker watching him and he cleared his throat, gathering the other plates to wipe them down and put them away.

_~Stop staring at me as though you can see right into me, Death. I can handle this without you.~_

* * *

Again, Ronald couldn't find sleep that night. His mind was far too busy focusing on William, his problem, and now...Undertaker and Will's relationship with said madman.

Using the tarps William had bought, they had set up a dry place to sleep. A tarp was laid out under their sleeping bags, and the others formed a roof and walls around them to save them from wind and any rain that may come down. The front of the tent was still open to let the heat of the campfire in.

Ronald was closest to the flames, facing towards the warm glow as he watched the flickering light give off heat. It felt good on his face. But still, the sandman passed him by.

With a sigh, Ron rolled over and took in the face of the supervisor, sleeping peacefully in the dark night. The man looked so peaceful...yet strangely troubled with a frown tugging on his lips.

The blond reached out to touch Wills cheek in comfort, but it did little to help, if at all.

 _~I wish you would talk to me.~_ he thought towards the sleeping man, _~I wish I could be the one to help you...~_

From the other side of William, movement served as a reminder that they weren't alone as Undertaker rolled over, his long arm draping over William and pulling him to his chest. And finally, William's face relaxed, losing all signs of fret.

Ronald's eyes widened and he slowly sat up, turning away as his stomach twisted.

No...no; he couldn't do this...he couldn't handle this on his own, even if it was what was best for William. He was in love with the man, and he needed to guard his heart, too. It was okay to be a little selfish...right?

Pulling his shoes and jacket back on, Ronald got up and hurried to the car to get his phone, scrolling through the contacts as he shut himself in for privacy and so he wouldn't wake the other two. Finally locating the number for his best friend, he hit send and lay down in the back seat under a spare blanket, phone pressed to his ear as he listened to it ring. This time, he didn't even care how late it'd be for Eric... he needed his friend.

* * *

Eric came awake with a snort when the phone rang. He reached for it with an unhappy frown on his lips, expecting it to be Dispatch calling with some emergency. Since taking on the responsibility of supervising his department, he and his partner Alan hadn't really enjoyed much time to themselves. As he reached for his glasses and peered narrow-eyed at the phone, he was a bit surprised to see Ronald's number showing on the ID.

"Hullo?" Muttered the Scotsman upon answering the phone.

"Sorry to wake you..." Ronald spoke in a low voice, feeling a little bad for how tired his friend sounded, "I just...really need to talk to someone, and...you're my best friend... do you have time to talk?"

Eric glanced at the clock, and while it was late, Ronald was his closest friend. He sat up and covered his mouth on a yawn. "Sure I can talk, Ronnie. Has somethin' happened? Are yeh alright?"

Ronald paused, curling up under the blanket, "...I think..." he sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his free hand, "I..." he thought back to the embrace Undertaker and William had shared when they didn't know he was able to see.

"...It hurts..."

Eric's expression darkened, and he misunderstood the meaning behind the younger reaper's words. "Where's tha boss, Ronnie? Where are ya hurt? Do I need tae send out search teams tae track ya down?"

"No... no, nothing like that." Ronald insisted in his hushed voice. "William's asleep, and we know where we are." He heaved a sigh, one he knew Eric could probably hear, "This is more... personal, ya know? I just…I think..."

Damn it, tears were filling in his eyes and he was choking up again, "I think Will...I think... he doesn't actually...I think he's in love with someone else!" he finally choked out, a bit louder than he intended, but control over his voice was getting difficult.

"I think he... was just using me as like... I don't know... a place holder or... something! H-He hasn't told me to bugger off yet but, but I saw them... and now..."

Ronald cursed, wiping at his cheeks to dry the tears, "Fuck... it hurts..."

Eric's concern for Ronald's physical safety quickly changed into concern for his emotional safety. His free hand clenched into a fist. Ronald Knox didn't get this upset over just anyone, and boss or not, if Spears hurt him he was going to get a taste of Scottish knuckles. He knew he would be devastated if he saw Alan doing anything with someone else, now that they'd hooked up. He couldn't imagine someone as proper as William T. Spears cheating on his boyfriend, though. Perhaps Ronald had made a mistake.

"Who'd ya see him wi', kid? What'd yeh catch him doing?"

Ronald looked down. No one new who he and Will were working with, and he was sure it was supposed to stay that way... but maybe he could tell him without letting the cat out of the bag, so to speak?

It was worth a try.

"Will's in the arms of... his old mentor..." he muttered, trying not to let his voice crack. "Ya'know, like the only person he has ever fully trusted and looked up too... I...I think they had been more than what Grell and I are... and now that he's here... Will... William doesn't...need...me..."

Eric frowned in confusion. He had no idea who William had trained under, having transferred to the London division from Edinburgh just before Spears got promoted to supervisor of their department. He did know whom the man once idolized, though. He'd seen William get onto more than one Dispatch agent for speaking disrespectfully of the old bat, once the Undertaker came out of hiding behind his guise as a funeral director.

"No..." He shook his head, horrified at the thought. "Tell me yer kidding, Ronnie. Will an' tha Undertaker? Wha' tha fook is he doin' there wi' ya?"

He knew the boss had reported they had a lead in the case they were investigating, but he'd never imagined it was the mortician. The man was still wanted by Dispatch authorities and whether Spears idolized him or not, it wasn't like him to fail to report a sighting.

"...Shit.. you can't say anything! Not yet. We need the geezer's help..." Ronald pleaded, "and yeah, I'm sure. The old man keeps pulling Will aside to talk and...this last time...I didn't mean to, but I saw them and...the man was calling him his love and caressing and hugging...and now...now they are..."

Ronald swallowed, "Will's in his arms...not mine...but I can't say anything because Will needs support right now... not a breakup and drama because I found out the truth... but... even still..." he sighed, "I don't want to... I really do love him... but he loves _Undertaker_. Eric... this isn't like flirting with a guy in a bar that turns out to be with someone... What do I do?"

Eric compressed his lips. He wasn't sure what advice to give Ronald, but he knew what _he_ wanted to do. He wanted to teleport to wherever they were and bash William's unfeeling skull in. "So ya mean tae tell me they're doin' tha deed right there in front o' ya?"

It seemed utterly ludicrous. He couldn't imagine Will having sex with anyone in front of onlookers, let alone banging someone right in front of the guy he'd just committed to. Either he wasn't getting the whole story or William had truly gone off the deep end. He'd had to have, to do something so crass. The man Eric knew was a social ice cube, but he'd never do something so vulgar as to screw someone else right in front of his boyfriend.

Ronald's cheeks flushed and he stole a hesitant, paranoid glance out the car window at the shelter they had set up. He knew they weren't, but when Eric suggested that they were... he couldn't help but want to make sure.

No movement.

Ronald let out a relieved sigh and sank back down into the back seat. "No...no sex or anything...but you know... cuddling...holding each other in their sleep..."

"Huh. Did they start this before or after they fell asleep?" Not that Eric believed it really mattered to Ronald...not if he'd seen them caressing while awake and heard the Undertaker speaking the endearments of a lover to William. Was it possible that Spears really _was_ in love with the fugitive? It might explain his failure to inform Dispatch of the man's whereabouts when he discovered them.

At the encampment, the elder of the two reapers in question stirred, awakened by the noise in his head. He smacked his lips and yawned, lifting his head off the camping pillow it rested on. He frowned in confusion when he realized he was spooning someone, and he levered himself up on one elbow to get his bearings. The Undertaker's cheeks warmed a bit when he realized he'd been cuddling his former pupil, and he grimaced as he carefully eased his arm off of him and scooched away. Imagining young Knox wouldn't be too pleased if he noticed, the mortician looked for the blond and he saw that his side of the bedding was empty. Oh dear...if he'd hugged Willy while Ronald was up, chances were the boy saw it. Hoping that wasn't the case, the ancient got out of his sleeping bag and got to his feet.

He heard Ronald's voice speaking softly and he followed the sound to the car, seeing him inside of it. The young agent seemed to be on the phone with someone, and the Undertaker hesitated, concentrating on quieting the voices in his head long enough to hear what he was saying.

"Doesn't matter." Ron mumbled, "I know when to take a hint-but this whole thing is...you know. I need help, Eric...advice...I'd never gotten serious with anyone before! You were the closest thing I ever had to being serious and we were only just friends with benefits until you snatched up Alan-senpai, and I...well...I thought, I got Will..."

Eric sighed, pained for his friend's suffering. He'd always thought that if he and Ronald made a romantic commitment and settled down with anyone it would be fore keeps. He didn't even know how long he had with Alan before his partner's illness finally claimed his life, and that scared the shit out of him...but to have him snatched up by another person just when he'd finally gotten him would have been unbearable.

"Ronnie, I'm no expert on a real relationship either, but if it were me...wull...I'd probably confront him about it. I dun' know tha details o' how tha two o' ya go' together, but if he's made a promise tae yeh he cannae or willnae honor, then ya deserve tae know. Ya shouldn't wait an' suffer in silence, wondering where ya stand wi' him. Tha's my opinion on tha matter. Tell him yeh saw him doin'...whate'er he was doin' wi' tha Undertaker and make him choose. Don't put him first if he's only going tae put ya second, kid."

"Yeah, that's great," Ronald said. "Mess up everything and get stuck with still having to see him every day knowing it's over before it really got a good chance to begin..."

But then again... could he continue on pretending? Either way he was stuck...

"Hades Damn it all!" he cursed, "I don't want to let him go, but...it's so obvious I'm not the one he'd rather be with, and at least Undertaker seems to be able to help and understand things with him...and I'm just...some shitty useless kid third-wheeling on a trip across Germany who can't even go forget about shit in a pub because even if there was a bar it's too damned hard to order drinks in German!"

"Calm down, Ronnie," advised Eric. "An' stop putting yerself down too, while yer at it. Yer worth more than tha', an' there's a chance it's all a misunderstanding. You'll ne'er know 'till ya speak up, though. No matter wha's happening, ya deserve tae know tha truth of it so yeh can move on...wherever it takes ya. Wha' if it's all one-sided? Maybe tha auld man came onto Will but ya walked away wi'out seeing him turn him down? It's hard fer me tae judge going by tha information ye've given me, but none o' this sounds right."

Eric sighed again, and he dearly hoped it really was all just a misunderstanding. Otherwise he was going to end up getting himself demoted, suspended or fired when Ron and William returned from Germany, because if Will cheated on Ronnie and used him after all, the Scotsman had no intention of pulling his punches.

"Look, jus' say somethin' tae him," he coaxed. "Ya should be able tae tell if he tries tae worm his way out o' it. You an' I've both had plenty o' practice doing tha verrah same thing when our plans dun' go how we wanted 'em too. Yeh cannae make things much worse fer yourself by confronting him, aye?"

"I...I guess so..." Ronald sighed, wiping his cheeks again, "But it's really hard to compete with his fucking idol; madman or not, Will still has a history with him...and say what you want about me. I'm still the kid who likes to party and sleep and shows up to work late sometimes. That's my past with him: a whole lot of lectures and disappointing him."

"I dun' think he'd have picked ya fer this mission if he felt tha' way," reasoned Eric, "an' he wouldn't have given yeh tha time o' day, much less hooked up wi' ya. Something's goin' on fer certain, but ya told me yerself he's no' been acting right. If there's really something mutual happening wi' him an' tha Undertaker then maybe tha auld man took advantage o' him in a vulnerable state. Ya need tae find out tha truth."

"...Maybe..." Ronald sighed, wishing things could be easier. He hated having doubts. Romancing people had always been second nature to him, but he wasn't used to fearing he'd lose the person. Normally he didn't really care; it was just casual sex, nothing real.

After he and William started dating, he'd never doubted the man. And he still wouldn't be if he didn't keep seeing secret embraces and endearments between the two older reapers when they thought Ronald wasn't around.

His confidence was in picking up dates. Not actually dating seriously; and he found his doubts getting to him all too easily.

"I'll try to talk to him about it. Thanks, Eric. I guess I'll let you snuggle back up with Alan, now. Oh, and remember... I'm trusting you to keep the Undertaker a secret. I'm not supposed to talk about him to Dispatch at all, and this was more personal, and you figured it out..." he babbled. He was sure Eric would keep his promise not to tell, but he was on an emotional high, at the moment. He needed confirmation.

"I'll keep it tae mahself fer now," promised Eric—and he was glad that Alan wasn't there in his bed. It was going to be difficult enough to keep this from him and he knew that if his partner found out, Alan would likely insist that they inform the board. Fortunately they were trying to take things on the slow side and build up to things before getting intimate, despite Alan's condition that numbered his days. "But Ronnie, much as I appreciate yer position this is goin' tae have tae come out sooner or later. Tha Undertaker's a wanted reaper an' if Spears doesn't eventually report it..."

He sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Jus' watch yerself, kid. I'm trusting yeh tae contact me if things get too out of hand. Dun' let yer feelings fer tha boss put ya in harm's way, understand?"

"I know. Will plans to when this thing is over with, or he did...I guess I don't know anymore..." Ronald sighed, "I trust Undertaker because Will insists that he's trustworthy, but still, I don't know the guy like Will does. My trust only goes so far with him, especially right now as he keeps hugging and holding Will like that." He shook his head. "Sorry for waking you, and thanks for talking to me. I really needed to get it off my chest and everything."

Ronald went to hang up, but he stopped himself. "And hey, no matter what happens, when I get home from this war...we'll need to go out for drinks."

"Dun' worry 'bout waking me," Eric reassured him. "I've gotten used tae it since taking o'er fer Spears...an' yer on fer those drinks. Good luck wi' Will an' call me if ya need anything else. G'night, Ronnie."

* * *

The Undertaker stood silently, pondering whether he should go back to bed and pretend he didn't overhear anything. Ronald had just hung up the phone, however, and it was doubtful that even a reaper that could be as quick as the Undertaker could make it back to the shelter before the young man looked up and saw him moving. He sighed, decision made. There was obviously a terrible misunderstanding and willfully or not, Undertaker had played a part in it. As tempting as it was to just let the couple suss it out on their own, he felt oddly accountable. After how they'd parted ways, perhaps he at least owed William some help in clearing this up.

The mortician walked up to the car and leaned against the hood, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for Ronald to come out. It was likely the boy wouldn't want to discuss it with him at all, but he at least needed to at least _try_ to explain that it wasn't what it apparently looked like.

Ronald stayed in the car, waiting for his tears to dry up before he snuffled and opened the door, taking the blanket with him. Distracted, he didn't even notice the man standing at the hood of the car as he shuffled by on his way back to their temporary shelter, the blanket over his head like a child trying to hide from the monster under his bed or in his closet.

Undertaker straightened up and called out softly to Ronald upon realizing he was going to walk right past him. "Agent Knox, spare a moment for a li'l chat? I think it's important."

Having not expected anyone to be up besides himself, Ronald jumped and turned to look at the shadowy madman in long robes. Though how he missed seeing his ghostly hair in the moonlight perplexed him. He truly was distracted by all his inner turmoil.

"I, uh...was just cold so I went to grab the spare blanket," he excused, afraid that the man had been woken up by the sound of the car door shutting.

The mortician clucked his tongue and shifted his stance a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. "We both know that's a bit of nonsense, chap. Not that I was trying to spy on you, but I happened to overhear the tail end of your phone conversation. I think we'd best get this sorted out before any real damage gets done, yeah?"

"Now—I don't want to fight you!" Ron gasped, holding up his hands, "If I did, I would have said something when you were sneaking hugs and who knows what else earlier!"

He was horrified that he'd been overheard by the man, but he couldn't go back, now. And he had no doubt that Undertaker had heard what the conversation was about.

"If...If Will wants to be with you, then I'll back off—promise! I won't like it, but if it's what he wants..."

Undertaker blinked at the younger reaper. Merciful death, this one was simply _ripe_ with misunderstandings. "Ronnie, calm down, love. I'm not trying to initiate a fight with you and I'm not interested in Willy that way. I can only assume you've gotten the wrong impression 'cause I've shown him a bit of affection and encouragement when he needs it most. Probably didn't help that I cuddled up to the lad in my sleep, but there's nothing between the two of us that poses any sort of threat to your relationship with him."

He scratched his shaggy head and he sighed. "Maybe I'm just so bloody terrible at communicating now that I'm just not being clear enough. At any rate, I harbor a mentor's fondness for Spears that hasn't fully depleted over time, and t' be honest with you, I'm a bit worried about him. That doesn't mean I'm trying to get into his trousers. That's _your_ business, not mine. I s'pose it's just nice to be in the company of the living again. Mayhap I overstepped myself and for that, I'm...sorry."

It felt odd to apologize, but this young man meant something special to the Undertaker's former apprentice and he didn't want to see things fall apart between them on his account. Even if they ended up in opposition to each other when all was said and done, he figured he could at least do this one thing for William while they were allies.

Ronald looked down and kicked at the dirt, his foot creating a small crater. He didn't know what to say. He'd been caught under the thumb of the green-eyed monster's control, yet he still didn't know if he could trust this man. But as Eric pointed out, he couldn't even trust what he had seen. As much as he thought he'd seen, he didn't know the whole story.

"...When I look at you, I know I see a completely different man than Will sees," he finally muttered. "I see an old madman that's scary strong and smart when he gets serious... he sees who you had been before the Demon Wars. He sees the great 'Legendary Death'. He knows you aren't the same, but he can't help but look up to you...he can't help but trust you—too much if you ask me. He sees a man whom I never met, one who was long gone before I was born. You influence him. You can't blame me for feeling like I do when I keep seeing you touching him fondly, hearing you call him your 'love', and seeing how he calms at your touch right after mine did nothing to help him. Even if you don't mean to steal his heart, it looks like you are. It looks like he needs you a lot more than he needs me. Will and I were going so good until now, but I was also the only one at his side. Now he has you, and I have to wonder if he's harbored feelings for you all these years that you are now bringing out."

The tears were rolling down Ronald's cheeks again. "I don't care if he chooses you! Well, I do care... I care a lot, and it's killing me; but more than that I just want him to get better and be happy I want whatever this is to stop messing with him... I don't want to see him fall into the same darkness you are trapped in."

At once, the Undertaker felt a surge of pity for this smitten young reaper. He sighed, and he smiled at Ronald—a gentle smile that few ever saw. "I don't want to see that happen either, my lad. You misunderstand it all though. See, Willy never had a decent father figure in his life and I think I might have filled that void a bit when I mentored him. He comes to me for advice because I know exactly what he's going through, but it's not a lover's eyes he looks at me with. He's sinking, Ronnie...and he's grasping at lifelines. Pity for him one of 'em happens to be cast by a lunatic, but I can assure you that the one you've cast means as much to him as mine—if not more."

He approached Ronald and his expression was solemn as he reached out to pat the agent's sunny blond head—not unlike his affectionate actions with William earlier. "You've just told me that you're willing to let him go for his happiness. That's proof enough for me that you're good for him. Now, as for the endearments...I tend to call a lot of people 'love' when I get fond of them. Doesn't mean I'm eyeballing 'em with romantic intentions, understand. I just called you 'love' a minute ago and I haven't tried to kiss you."

The mortician chuckled, tickled with himself. "I should probably apologize for the cuddles, too. I'm a cuddler, my boy...always have been. It's been ages since I had anything but a pillow to snuggle and it was pure instinct to seek out the nearest warm body in my sleep. I wasn't trying to romance your gent. Could have been anybody, truth be told. Don't hold my actions against him. I—"

He started to say that he envied their relationship and while he was quite fond of William deep down, he didn't really view him in a romantic light. The object of their discussion stirred fitfully in his sleep though, and the Undertaker's attention switched to him. William tossed and moaned, distressed with nightmares that one could only guess at. Undertaker sighed with empathy, and he nodded toward the bedding in the starlit camp.

"Go on then," he murmured to Ronald encouragingly, gesturing at the restless figure beneath the blankets. "You said you'd be there for him, so go and do it. Hold him...tell him he's not alone and it's going to be all right. Do everything nobody ever did for me, Ronnie. If anyone can keep him from drowning now, it's you."

He smirked a bit ruefully and he cupped the boy's chin with one cool hand, and then he wiped the glistening moisture from Ronald's cheek with his sleeve. A glimpse of his old self came out—the reaper that he once was, who could be both nurturing and authoritative with his juniors. Once upon a time, the mortician actually enjoyed babysitting little ones and he still had some regrets that he'd never had any himself. "There, that's better. Can't have you all teary-eyed, can we? You snuggle up to Will and I'll sleep in the car, yeah?"

Ronald took in a deep breath and nodded, feeling foolish for the upset he'd caused that night. "...Sorry..." he muttered to the man before making sure his tears were dry and handing Undertaker the blanket he'd taken from the car. Then he hurried back to their shelter and lay next to William, pulling the larger man to him and holding him close.

"It…it'll be okay, Will," he whispered, hoping he could help calm William's dreams, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

William instinctively curled against the blond, hugging him close. "No more," he muttered into his hair. "Too loud...R-Ronald..."

Completely trapped in his nightmares, William was unaware of his own pleas for comfort. All that he knew in his sleeping mind was that the one reaper he had come to trust implicitly was speaking to him...embracing him. It soothed him and he spoke unrestrained words that he never would have said while conscious.

"Sorry, Ronald. So terribly sorry...what a miserable...disappointment I must be..."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let a rough patch drive us apart?" Ron whispered, hugging him tighter. A small pang of guilt struck his heart, knowing that moments before, he had been crying over thinking that William was falling in love with another. "Let me see if I can chase these voices or whatever they are, away." he pressed a kiss to Will's cheek.

William sighed with apparent relief, understanding Ronald's words even though he wasn't awake. He nuzzled the younger reaper's soft, yellow-gold hair and he mumbled incoherently to him. Gone was the cool, emotionless Dispatch supervisor. In his sleep, William was just as susceptible to emotions and needs as any other reaper.

From across the encampment the Undertaker watched, and he nodded in approval as Agent Knox did his best to comfort Will. Reminding himself that he couldn't afford to let himself get too attached to their company, the ancient climbed into the back seat of the car and did his best to fold his lean body into a comfortable enough position. It wasn't the ideal way to seek rest, but he reckoned he could only do more damage if he tried to sleep with his two young companions at this time.

* * *

-To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

Ronald was finally able to fall asleep, practically attached to William the whole night. By the time the sun shed its light over the reaper's camp, Ronald was no longer sleeping next to William, but on top of him. His golden head rested upon the man's chest, and his cheek was smushed upwards, which up-turned his lips and allowed for a small dribble of drool to soak through a spot on William's shirt.

William awoke to the sound of his phone alarm going off, and he made a blind grab for it. He grunted in discomfort at the motion, feeling stiff and sore from spending the night sleeping on the ground. He felt the weight of someone on top of him and he peered blearily down at his chest. Recognizing the yellow-gold head he found there, the events of the evening before came back to him.

They were on the road with the Undertaker, tracking down the creature responsible for the blank records. An air strike happened in the town not far from their camp and then...he'd started acting like a lunatic.

William's face heated with mortification as he recalled the way he'd acted when the voices filled his head. He wouldn't have blamed Ronald if he'd called Dispatch to come retrieve him and have him forcibly committed. Instead, there Ron was, sleeping soundly on top of him. Of the Undertaker there was no sign, and Will wondered if he was out foraging or perhaps relieving himself.

He stroked Ronald's hair, reluctant to get up or wake him, but knowing they had to get moving again.

"Ronald," called Will, gently shaking him.

With a moan, the blond shifted, turning his head before smacking his lips and settling back down. But William was used to Ronald's sleeping habits by now and when the man didn't let up, Ronald finally lifted his head, his sleepy eyes blinking in confusion, "...Will..?"

"Good morning," whispered William in greeting. He stroked Ronald's hair again to tame the cowlick somewhat. "I feel I must apologize for my behavior last night. I was...not myself."

"...Yeah, but you were asleep..." The blond yawned, remembering what the man had said after he'd curled up to comfort him. "Plus I think you had a nightmare..."

William was sure he'd had a nightmare...several of them in fact, but he could not recall the details of any of them, and he had no memory of speaking in his sleep. He rubbed his partner's back, guessing that Ronald must have tried to comfort him in the night.

"I meant my behavior before I fell asleep. Clutching my head and raving like that. I must have seemed mad to you."

Ronald frowned and sat up, straddling William's legs, "Actually...I can't say I did think you mad, last night. I..." he sighed. He wanted to keep their relationship truthful and open. No secrets, no more unwarranted jealousy. "I was a bit distracted last night, myself." he admitted, "Call me an idiot, but... I had thought that you were...falling in love with Undertaker, to be honest..."

William frowned in return, and he looked around again for his old mentor. He finally noticed a pair of familiar boots sticking out the open window of the back seat and the question of where he'd gone was answered.

Ronald's admission disturbed William, reminding him of that moment of confusion he'd felt when they came upon the Undertaker stark naked. It certainly didn't mean he was falling in love with the man, but it made Will see him in a different light. He could easily imagine someone else wanting to trace those scars and kiss every pale inch of that lean body, but for himself, such a desire was just plain wrong.

"I can imagine why you would come to that conclusion," William said thoughtfully. "I have extolled his past virtues and I've made it no secret that I would like for him to come with us and seek help when this is finished. This is because of what he once was to me though, Ronald. I care for him just as you care for Sutcliff, and I wish a better fate for him than eternal madness...but I am not in love with him."

"He...caught me crying over it last night." Ron continued his admission, "And he said that you saw him more of a fatherly figure than anything, and then he said he'd sleep in the car. He shouldn't have had to, but I didn't refuse his idea, either..." He sighed and lay back down on Will, slipping his arms around him, "I'm sorry to you both for getting so jealous."

William embraced him in return, taking a moment to absorb everything he'd just been told. Knox had _cried_ over him? Undertaker coherently explained the situation? It seemed surreal to William, and it occurred to him that was due in part to both things being unfamiliar to him.

Nobody had ever cried for him before, save for his mother. Undertaker hadn't been lucid for more than short bursts since the day he came back from the last war he was in.

"I have no idea what to say," he admitted softly. A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips with the warm feeling in his breast. "Nobody has ever been jealous over me before...at least not anyone who genuinely cared for me."

Sutcliff's petty jealousy didn't count in Will's eyes.

"You aren't upset that I was so stupid?" Ron asked, giving him a squeeze. He was relieved that that was the case. He'd witnessed before how jealousy could ruin relationships.

Will shook his head. "No, I'm not upset. A bit surprised to hear it, but not upset."

He cupped Ron's chin to urge him to lift his head and he gave him a kiss. "I don't find your actions stupid, either. We are in a highly stressful and unusual situation, far from home and working with a man I once idolized. I think I understand why you got that impression."

Ronald gave him a small smile, and he pressed a kiss to his lips, "Let's promise to communicate better." he suggested, "So we don't have any more problems like last night."

"I'm willing to try," conceded William. He sighed and looked at his watch. "I am afraid we need to pack up and get going soon, though. We cannot afford to let the trail run cold on us."

At least Will's head was quiet again, for now. He wondered how long the reprieve would last. Were they random, or was their presence dependant upon the number of deaths nearby? He eased Ronald off of him with quiet reluctance and he began to gather up the bedding to store it in the supply bag.

"Wake the Undertaker, please." he requested. "I will prepare a light breakfast for us, if the two of you will finish putting the rest of this away."

"Okay..." Ronald rolled himself up onto his feet and stretched before pulling on the rest of his uniform and shuffling to the car. "Hey, it's morning," Ron said, reaching in the window and poking Undertaker's cheek, "Get up or you'll miss the breakfast Will's making and you'll get stuck with potatoes."

The mortician came awake with a snort and he sat up abruptly, his hat rolling off his head. "Eh? Breakfast?"

He flailed for the door handle and he spilled out of the vehicle and onto the ground like a black and silver rag doll. Shaking his head to clear it, he rolled over and got on his knees. He pushed aside the tangled silver fringe obscuring his vision and he peered around with narrowed, glittering eyes. "Oh." He yawned and got to his feet, recalling where they were. "Right. Thought I was in my coffin at home."

He sighed, and he tied his long hair into a knot as a makeshift ponytail, and then he grabbed his hat out of the car and stuffed it on his head. He couldn't see clearly enough from this distance to be sure, but he could have sworn William gave him a disgusted look and a disappointed shake of his head. The Undertaker grimaced. He was a far cry from the professional veteran William trained under, and he couldn't rightly blame him for his disappointment. He followed Ronald over to the extinguished fire that William was trying to stir back to life with some of the wood they'd gathered the night before.

"What are we having for breakfast?"

William glanced up from his poking, his eyes briefly roving over him before shifting back to his task. "Oatmeal, I am afraid. It keeps well and is quick to prepare. Perhaps the next time we get the opportunity to stop and re-supply, we can obtain more food that travels well."

"Like that canned meat they sell?" Undertaker didn't seem too thrilled. "The sort that looks like opaque jelly?"

Will shrugged and he almost smirked, detecting his old mentor resurfacing just a bit. The man had always loved a good meal, but he was picky when it came to anything overly processed. "Something like that, yes. Canned meat, canned fish, evaporated milk...the sort of things that will not spoil while we travel. We cannot _always_ eat like we did last evening, sir."

Undertaker sighed, and he walked over to help Ronald fold the tarp. "Are you even sure it's meat?"

"The ingredients are listed on the cans," reminded William. "Perhaps they don't use the most desirable parts of the animals, but why should that make one such as you squeamish? You deal with more unpleasant things than that on a daily basis."

"But I don't bloody _eat_ it, do I?" Grumbled the Undertaker. "Can you imagine me stuffing my face with the entrails and the eyeballs of my clients?"

William paused and raised a brow at him. "Dare I answer that? Please, let's not discuss such things right before breakfast."

"Nah, that sounds more like a Grell thing. You know, all that blood." Ron snickered, shaking out the tarp to get any leaves off it before folding it, "Plus with them teeth he has... I can't ever see him sitting down to a salad."

"Grell," repeated the Undertaker softly. "That name rings a bell."

"It should, considering you once fought him and agent Knox aboard a doomed cruise ship," reminded William, "and you recently hospitalized Sutcliff and his assigned partner Jeffries in another altercation when they crossed paths with you."

The mortician finished folding his corners and he released one of them to snap his fingers. "Oh, _yes_! Miss Sutcliff! Sassy li'l bird. She didn't give me much choice."

William glanced at him in the process of pouring the oats into the cooking pot. "I think you are confused, sir. Sutcliff is male. A very flamboyant male that likes to refer to himself as a lady, but- "

"She _is_?" The Undertaker frowned, and he absently brought his corners of the tarp over to Ronald to help finish folding it. "Looks like a lady t' me. Sounds like a lady too, the way she shrieked when I countered her attacks. Usually I try to be a bit nicer to the females, but I wasn't left with much choice."

The mortician paused and he tilted his head. "You sure about this, chap? Ever checked her knickers?"

William groaned. "Oh dear heavens..."

He started to ask the Undertaker just how bad his eyesight was, but he refrained. He supposed he could see how a reaper without the benefit of corrective eyewear could mistake Grell for a woman—particularly when the redhead declared himself a lady all the time. Sutcliff really did seem to identify that way these days as well.

"What does it matter?" he sighed. "Grell is Grell, and that has hardly changed since we graduated the academy together. Call Sutcliff whatever you choose."

Undertaker shrugged, and he squatted to gather up the rolled sleeping bags. "Seems more like it's what she chooses, unless _you're_ the one confused about it. I'd think you were pulling my leg if I didn't know you were born without a sense of humor, Willy."

"You just heard Ronald referring to Grell as a male," Will pointed out. He began to add liquid to the oats and he hung the pot over the fire to begin warming it. "He trained under her...him. I assure you, we did not have heads together this morning to prank you."

Undertaker looked at Ronald, still bearing a confused expression on his pallid features. He finally shrugged and carried the bags to the car to be stored. He couldn't imagine why William would lie about such a thing, but he'd been so sure...

"Trust me," Ron nodded, "He got into my pants once. He was all male that night. Or maybe part wolf with how he bites..." the blond shrugged, "If you're so interested, why not ask him next time?"

Undertaker paused again in the act of tossing the supplies into the trunk, and his gaze flicked to William. He thought he saw a flash of annoyance on his face, but again, he was too far away to tell for certain. "Hmm."

He said nothing else, though. He could have suggested to agent Knox that he shouldn't be blurting out past encounters with his own mentor after having a jealous fit over the thought of Will doing the same, but perhaps that was part of the reason _why_ Ronald jumped to that conclusion. William seemed to already know about him and Sutcliff, because Undertaker could imagine his outrage if this was the first time he'd heard of it. Maybe Ronald entertained fears that his lover would try something with the Undertaker simply out of spite.

The mortician shrugged. It was none of his business. It appeared to have been cleared all up and that was one less complication. He paused and cocked his head when he heard the whispers starting up, and he looked to the direction of the next town. Yes, they were on the right track. For the moment, he forgot all about Miss Sutcliff and his confusion concerning the crimson reaper.

Ronald finished folding the tarps and gathered them to take back to the car. "I think we have everything but the eating supplies, but if you could take one last look around while I shove these in the trunk, that'd be great," he said to Undertaker as he turned towards the car. "I'm sure Will'll have breakfast ready for us by then."

With a shrug of compliance, Undertaker had a look around as asked. He was feeling a bit detached now because the world of the living and the world of the dead were starting to overlap for him again. He'd grown rather used to it over time and he knew well enough which things he saw were tracers from the beyond the veil and which were actually physically there. As he checked around, he wondered if William had begun to see things as well or if it was only the voices, thus far.

"Breakfast is ready," called William after a few moments. He frowned at the Undertaker, noticing that he looked a bit entranced and was about to wander outside the concealment zone that kept their encampment hidden from mortals. "Undertaker, where are you going?"

The mortician gave a start and turned a bit, his mouth slack for a moment before he snapped out of it. "Oh...er...I was just plotting out our next route. Coming!"

William clenched his jaw as the ancient jogged back to the fireside, his makeshift ponytail swinging behind him with his long gate. "Ronald, come and eat. I've a feeling we have a long day ahead of us."

"Just-as soon as-There!" Ronald said, finally stuffing everything into the trunk that he could fit. The cooking supplies would have to sit in the back seat with whomever was back there at any one time. Closing the trunk, he jogged back over, flashing a grin at William as he was handed a bowl. "Thanks."

* * *

They ate a rather bland meal compared to the dish William had cooked for them the night before, and then they put out the fire and took down the wards around the camp. Once that was finished they piled into the car and the Undertaker insisted on taking the first driving shift. Knowing that Ronald would probably prefer to stretch out in the back seat a bit, Will offered it to him and he kept a close eye on the Undertaker's driving as they pulled out onto the road and set off. He watched his former mentor thoughtfully, noting how focused he suddenly seemed. It was like he knew exactly where he needed to go.

He didn't like the direction they were heading, as it seemed to be leading right to the settlement that got bombed the night before. So far, William had not heard any voices in his head, but he kept himself braced for it. He glanced over his shoulder at Ronald and he reminded himself that he did have an anchor, if the mental noise started back up again.

Ronald reclined in his seat, his ankle crossing over his knee and his foot bouncing in the air. He felt anxious now that they were back in the car heading towards the bomb sight. It couldn't be good for William, after all, and he wished they were headed away, back someplace safe, someplace where Will could be helped rather than tempted further into darkness. But he couldn't do anything about that. He could only hope that they caught this thing quickly and dispatch it.

"Do stop fussing, Mr. Knox," admonished William when he noticed his partner's nervous fidgeting. He softened the hard, professional tone with a subtle wink meant just for Ronald—a silent little reminder that his "professional voice" did not echo their personal relationship. "You wouldn't want to un-nerve me with your fidgeting, I imagine."

It was Will's subtle, unpracticed attempt at making light of his own recent issues. Humor was still a thing he hadn't grasped and he dearly hoped that his young lover would pick up on the hint.

"Sorry." Ronald flushed and grabbed his foot with both hands to try and stop its bouncing. He was too nervous to simply cease the motion, and he knew it. So he tried to cover it up in other ways, "I'm a bit...excited. If we _do_ find this guy and take him out, then things can get back to normal already."

At first, William was quietly amused by Ronald's candor. The youthful reaper did have a way of speaking honestly—whether for good or for ill. However, the use of the word "normal" reminded him that he may not be able to return to his accustomed state of normalcy, once this was all said and done.

"Yes...normal," he murmured, his voice partially drowned out by the sound of the car's motor. Human manufactured vehicles were quite behind in terms of efficiency and design, after all. William briefly lowered his gaze, but then he raised it again and he lifted his custom-shaded glasses to look into Ronald's eyes. The younger reaper's face became a blob to him in the process, but his eyes were the only focal point that mattered.

"I shan't forget our date, Ronald Knox."

Ron moved both feet on the floor, then and he leaned forward to slide his arms around Will's shoulders, the seat between them. "I have faith in you, Will," he whispered into his ear. He couldn't help but realize why William had said what he had. Will was also worried that he'd fall into the darkness and not be able to come back out. So, he was going to try his damnedest to be the light to guide William back out.

"We'll have our date-and many more after that."

William nodded and sighed, resting his head back against the seat. He spared a sidelong glance at the Undertaker to be sure the unstable man was still keeping a good heading, and he frowned slightly at the single-minded stare he noticed in the elder reaper's eyes. The Undertaker seemed to have acquired a good enough understanding of how motorcars were operated to drive on his own.

That wasn't a complete shock to William. Mad or not, his old mentor was brilliant. What troubled him was the intensity of the Undertaker's gaze as he drove along. Again, he was plagued by the suspicion that the man knew exactly where they needed to go, and he made a mental note to question him again on his tracking methods of their target.

* * *

They arrived in the war-torn settlement of Jembke after a while, and the Undertaker parked their stolen vehicle on the outskirts of the damaged town. Smoke still rose from the ruined buildings as the three reapers cloaked themselves and walked through the place—each of them sensing the death all around them but none quite so keenly as the Undertaker himself. Will and Ron were no longer on a collection assignment and thus, there was no reason to check the death lists except to ascertain which souls had been wiped blank by their quarry.

They located the first mark already being reaped by a German contact and William questioned him when he heard the reaper cursing. The records were blank, like all of the others he and Ronald had come across.

"Did you see or sense anyone else near this mark, sir?" queried the supervisor in German upon entering the building.

The German reaper turned to look at him, his gaze flicking to the badge that William displayed to him. He shook his head and sighed. " _Nein._ "

William echoed his sigh and he glanced at his companions before speaking again. "We represent the London division and we are here on an investigation regarding the growing number of blank records—such as the ones you just attempted to harvest. If you would be so kind as to contact us should you see or hear anything unusual in these parts, it would be most appreciated."

The agent called the Berlin division to confirm Will's claim after asking for their true names, and then he exchanged contact numbers with Ronald and William. "If you can solve this, my division would be very grateful," said the Berlin agent in closing. "We've lost too many collections to this oddity."

His gaze flicked to the Undertaker curiously. Of the three of them, the silver-haired man dressed in the SS officer uniform had offered no information of himself. Seeing the long scar on his face, the German officer began to get an expression of dawning recognition on his face.

"I wouldn't mention me if I were you," cautioned the Undertaker with a white-toothed smile, speaking in German. "It's not pertinent to your reports and frankly, not in your best interests."

The man swallowed, his gaze flicking back to Will and Ron. "What you Englishman do is your business. However…may I have an autograph, sir?"

Undertaker blinked at him, his ivory features twisting into a surprised expression. "Beg pardon?"

"An autograph, Legendary Death," revised the Berlin agent. He smiled almost bashfully. "I recognize you. There have been rumors, but I did not believe them. You are known to all of us, sir. One of the first—"

"Oh balls," muttered the ancient. "Give me a pen and something to write on, and keep your mouth shut."

He'd said it in English and when the Berlin agent looked confused, William quickly translated in a more polite way than it was worded. "Death would be happy to sign something for you if you provide something to write with and on. His one request is that you will keep his involvement in this situation to yourself until told otherwise."

The German nodded his blond head in agreement, still staring at the Undertaker with a starstruck look on his face. "Of course! Thank you very much!"

He produced a pad of paper from his uniform pocket and he offered a pen. Undertaker scribbled his name in both German and English onto it with a sigh, and he handed it back. " _Auf Wiedersehen_."

The German bowed a couple of times, smiling as he tucked the pad of paper back where it came from. " _Danke! Danke._ "

Undertaker nodded as the man bowed his way out of the ruined building, and once the group portaled back to the reaper realm, he shook his head. "Funny, that. When Shinigami recognize me I'm either worshiped or attacked."

Ronald didn't understand any of the exchange in German, but he stared in confused shock at Undertaker long after the German officer had departed. "Did...did he just—did you just—what in the great River Styx was that?!" he asked, hardly believing that not only had the old geezer been asked for an autograph, but had complied and given it.

"It seems his reputation has spread further than we realized," explained William with a slight smirk. "It leads me to wonder just how much of your history that man knew, Undertaker. Was he asking for your autograph out of reverence for your work with Dispatch, or was it due to admiration of your other work?"

The mortician shrugged uncomfortably, but he grinned. "Who knows? Doesn't much matter to me either way. We're very close to our quarry, but frankly, I'm starving. We can't be at our best on an empty stomach, yeah?"

William sighed, feeling his own stomach rumble in sympathy. "Very well. We shall teleport to our realm and find a place to eat there before continuing on. I trust you have no objections to dining on the reaper side, Undertaker?"

The mortician looked around with a grimace. "We aren't likely to find many options here, so why not?"

"It's either that or potatoes and left over breakfast." Ronald pointed out, jabbing his thumb back in the direction of the car. "Plus... gets us out of this place for an hour or so..." He glanced at William, hinting that he wanted to get Will someplace nicer, even if just for a short bit of time.

William summoned his scythe and created a portal to the other realm. "Yes, I would prefer a hot, balanced meal and some peace and quiet myself."

"In more ways than one," muttered the Undertaker. He suspected that like himself, Will would get a reprieve from the voices of the dead on the other side. They seemed to be unable to communicate through the veil in the reaper dimension.

Ronald wanted to usher Will through first, but Will was holding open the portal for them, so he stepped through first, followed by Undertaker and then William. The blond reached out, taking his lover's hand when he appeared, giving it a squeeze before he looked around at the options they had for eateries.

"Oh, fancy that," William remarked, silently relieved that the whispers he'd begun to hear immediately went silent upon entering this realm. "It appears there is an Italian bistro there, across the street. I imagine you'd enjoy that, Ronald. Undertaker, have you any objection?"

"Not at all." Undertaker patted his belly. "Italian food fills the tummy up just fine. Have at it, gents."

"Yes! Lets go!" Ron grinned. "Something nice and filling and slathered in sauce!"

He waited for traffic to let up before crossing the road with his companions and leading the way to the promise of good food, already making plans to eat enough to make up for weeks upon weeks of potato-based dishes.

Excited, he wasted no time in walking up to the host and requesting a table for three in Italian, only to soon realize that the man didn't speak a syllable of the language. "Uh...help?" Ron looked at William, who he could tell was trying to hold in an amused smile.

"A table for three, if you please," William requested in German. "Tell me, is this authentic Italian food you serve?" He wondered if there was anyone working there with so much of a drop of Italian blood in them.

"Oh yes," assured the host. "Our chef is directly from Rome, sir. I think you'll find our cuisine most satisfying."

Will nodded. Of course it would make sense for them to have a German speaking host and possibly wait staff in a German township. If there was one thing he couldn't stand though, it was generic dining establishments claiming to serve authentic food of a certain culture when the person or people making it hadn't even so much as set foot in the country of origin their menu boasted.

"Very good. I'll have a glass of water to start with, and an order of bread sticks."

"Make mine a glass of Chianti," decided the Undertaker after looking over the wine menu.

Will looked at Ronald and switched to English. "What would you like to drink?"

"Would a glass of wine be inappropriate?" Ronald grinned, teasingly.

"One glass can do no harm," agreed William. "In fact, I believe I'll have one with my water, as well."

"I'll inform your waiter immediately," promised the host once the drink order was placed. "He will be with you shortly, gentlemen."

Will nodded and he sighed, checking his watch. "Well, I estimate we can spare an hour for dinner and relaxation before returning to get back on the trail. I advise that we avoid over-imbibing, gentlemen. Should we catch up to the fugitive, we don't need to be drunk when we deal with him."

Ronald smirked. "Well, I can't speak for your tolerance, but one glass won't even begin to affect my judgment." He opened his menu and began to look over the selection, grateful that there were Italian translations under the German.

"Ahh... can I just order everything?" he asked, feeling like he would start to drool.

"Not if you don't want us to have to roll you out of here like a cheese wheel," muttered the Undertaker. "Get too stuffed and you won't be much good to us. Ah, but the selection does look yummy. I can't decide between the gnocchi or the chicken cacciatore. Might start with the bruschetta and give it a bit more thought."

"Bruschetta sounds good," agreed William. The waiter came with their drinks and breadsticks and Will thanked him. "My companion there is still deciding, but we'll have an order of bruschetta to start. I think I shall have the Manicotti Florentine as my entree. Ronald, have you decided on yours or would you like more time like...our companion?"

"I wouldn't mind being a cheese wheel..." Ronald muttered, never looking up from the menu. "Ooo! No. I know what I want!" Ronald pointed at a 'sampler' dish option that came with a little of multiple dishes. "I _can_ have everything." he grinned.

"Hmm, not a bad choice," said the Undertaker thoughtfully. He nodded. "I think I'll take a page from your book and try that, myself." He put his menu down and sipped his wine.

William considered the way the Undertaker had been acting while they were in the car, and he glanced around to be sure nobody was in hearing distance. "Sir, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. You said that we wouldn't understand your methods of tracking this creature, but I'm beginning to suspect I might."

"Oh?" The mortician regarded him with a vague smile. "Let's hear it then, Willy."

Will took a slow breath, bracing himself. If he was wrong then so be it, but if he was right...

"It's the dead, isn't it? The voices. They've been guiding you to him."

Undertaker's lips pulled into a wide, white smile. "Very good, chap. You always were my brightest apprentice. Took a bit longer for you t' figure it out than I expected, but you aren't wrong."

Will let out the breath he'd been holding. "Then does this mean I may soon be able to track him myself, as well?" He avoided looking at Ronald, hating himself for bringing up the subject in front of him but feeling he deserved to know exactly what was going on.

The Undertaker considered the question, his glittering eyes steady on William. Finally, he shrugged. "That's a good question, m'dear. I wish I could answer it for you, but it really depends on how willing you are t' listen to those voices. Problem is if you let go and do that, you might sink deeper into it and end up like me. It's probably best you leave the tracking of that sort to me and spare yourself the madness...or at least delay it for a while."

"You can't!" Ronald nearly stood up as he snapped his gaze to William, "You can't give up and give in to this thing! If you fall mad like Undertaker, anyway, then that's fine, but you have to promise you won't give in and just let it happen!" he pleaded, grabbing Will's hand, heart pounding in his chest. He hated the idea of William giving up.

A bit taken aback by Ronald's vehement protest, Will shushed him and he gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "The thought never crossed my mind. I was merely asking whether something good could come of my...issues. If I can actually make use of it at all, that would be some small compensation. If utilizing it to help track this creature comes with such a price, however...I believe I'll decline."

"I think that's a wise decision," agreed the Undertaker. "Don't you fret too much, Ronnie. Will's not known for making foolish choices most of the time. If he starts slipping though, you might have to rely more on your own judgment."

Will grimaced. "I'm not wildly in love with that idea, but thus far Ronald has shown greater common sense and responsibility than in the past."

"Hey, I always step up to the plate when it's needed!" Ron insisted, then he sighed, sliding closer to William on the bench, "Sorry, I just worry about ya... I hate thinking of anything bad happening to you."

"I know that you do," murmured William, "and your concern is appreciated. Just try not to worry _too_ much until there is reasonable cause...such as certain instances that have occurred since we came here. Unless I'm actually slipping in a dangerous way, don't be distracted by your concern for me."

He squeezed his hand and he leaned in to whisper into Ron's ear. "I would not wish to see anything bad happen to you, either."

"My goodness," remarked the Undertaker, blinking. "I don't think I've ever seen you so affectionate with anyone, Willy. This war has certainly changed you."

William flushed and cleared his throat, releasing his partner's hand to reach for his wine. "Yes, well...war changes everyone to some degree and Mister Knox and I have been through quite a lot together."

The waiter came back with their appetizers and Will took the liberty of ordering for his companions, before handing the menu back. He busied himself with a bread stick and a helping of the Bruschetta, hoping the Undertaker wouldn't keep going on about his observation.

After they ordered their entrees, Ronald placed his hand on Will's knee under the table. "You know, there is nothing wrong with showing that you care for me in public," he encouraged. "It may be good for you to let go a little in that way. Plus it helps keep away anyone who may try picking either of us up." He winked, sipping his wine.

William raised a brow. "Oh? Well then...open up." He picked up a square of the brushetta and offered it to Ronald in one of the most romantic—yet appropriate—gestures of public affection he could think of.

Pleased with the treatment, Ronald complied, allowing his lover to feed him after he set his wine glass back down.

Undertaker grinned with delight as he watched the young lovers interact. He kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to spook Will out of the intimate moment. The mortician was a romantic at heart, though he himself couldn't even remember what it was like to have feelings like that for another. He also looked on his old apprentice in a paternal way and he truly didn't want to see William suffer the same fate as him. Having someone like Ronald at his side might prove to be his saving grace.

Will smiled subtly as Ronald chewed, and he reached for his napkin to dab the younger reaper's lips when a bit of tomato fell onto his chin. "Sloppy," he accused softly. "But your eating habits have improved of late."

"Whots wrong wif my eating habits?" Ron asked, his mouth full. He smirked, cheeks holding the chewed morsel of food as he made a "duck face" and puckered his lips while William wiped his mouth off. He then swallowed and gave a proper grin, "Sorry, couldn't resist messin' with ya, Sexy."

William flushed slightly. "You have a habit of that. I've grown somewhat used to it. How is the bruschetta?"

"It's good enough to make me regret talking with my mouth full, I can tell ya that! Reminds me of my mom's cooking. Mmm! So good!" The blond admitted, reaching to help himself to more.

William huffed a soft, subtle chuckle as he watched his partner dig into the appetizer. He took a bite himself and he nodded in approval at the flavor, and then he dipped one of the breadsticks into the marinara sauce. At least the host's bragging wasn't just an empty promise about the food quality. Will noticed the way his old mentor was watching him and Ronald and he felt suddenly self conscious.

"Aren't you going to have any, sir?"

Undertaker seemed to shake himself out of a daze. "Ah, right. I was just letting the two of you test it for me. Seems to meet your approval so I'll start digging in too."

Ronald also glanced at the man third-wheeling their suddenly date-like Lunch. "Were you hearing them voices again?" he asked, "I thought you couldn't hear them over here but you looked kinda zoned out."

The mortician smirked and he picked up a square of the bruschetta. "I'm always 'zoned out' at some point or another, Mr. Knox. I don't need to be hearing voices for that to happen. My mind gets distracted easily." He lifted the appetizer to his lips and he took a bite out of it, making little sounds of pleasure in his throat.

William tried not to let the man's admission trouble him overly. Clearly all those years in solitude with no company save the dead had worn the Undertaker's mind down to this point, and the Dispatch supervisor wondered if the Undertaker really was past the point of help. He still wasn't ready to give it up as a lost cause, though. Perhaps he could never return to being the reaper he once was, but he was still brilliant and formidable. There was still a chance for him. Choosing not to comment on it, he had another sip of wine.

Their meal came out a short while later and they enjoyed it with gusto, knowing it would be a while before they had another opportunity for a nice meal. Will almost considered picking up more supplies from a grocer after they left the bistro, but he thought it might be best to wait on that.

It was a good thing he did. When they arrived back on the mortal side and went to get back in the car, they found it missing—along with all of their belongings.

* * *

-To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

Ronald kicked a pile of rubble they had been parked next to, "Gods fucking dammit!" he cursed, "My spare boxers were in there!"

They didn't have to worry about reaper tech being stolen as they kept all that on their person at all times while out on the field. but their clothes and supplies had been taken. Plus anything the Undertaker had with him.

Speaking of the Undertaker, the mortician began to laugh. The sound cut through Will's shock like a knife and he whirled on the ancient, posture stiff and hands clenched into fists. Fed up with their poor run of luck, he forgot whom he was speaking to. "This _really_ is not the time for your hysterics! There isn't a bloody thing funny about this situation, Undertaker!"

"Oh, but there is," disagreed the mortician between snickers. "Our swiped motorcar got swiped again! I wonder if it...might have been...the original owner!"

It was all too much for him, and he leaned against the building and guffawed while Will fumed and Ronald cussed like a sailor.

"It's not funny!" Ron snapped, "Our everything was in that trunk! bed rolls, cooking supplies, spare clothes! And just how are we supposed to catch up to this undead soul eater guy without our car?! We can't walk the distance and expect to have the energy to capture and dispatch him!"

The Undertaker tried to quell his amusement. "W-well, I s'pose we'll just have to find another vehicle to 'borrow', won't we? Could be ours is still somewhere in this town. We'll just have to inspect the place and see."

William pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, feeling a headache coming on. "All right, let's split up, shall we? We can cover more ground that way. Ronald, you go north. I shall look east and the Undertaker can look west. We can all make our way southward from the edge of town and meet up at the southern point. Should any of us locate our vehicle or spot another that we could use, we can contact one another."

Ronald slumped his shoulders. "Alright...but I wanna pop the dude who took our shit in the nose!" He took a moment to check his pocket to make sure he still had his phone, and then he nodded. "I'll be just a call away," he confirmed before taking off with reaper skill in the direction he had to search.

William watched him go for a moment, before nodding at the Undertaker. "Try not to get distracted while you search."

"Have a bit of faith, Willy."

William glanced over his shoulder at the silver reaper as he turned away. "Actions speak louder than words, sir. If you wish to restore my faith in you, then you must prove you deserve it."

With that said, William took off in his assigned direction, avoiding the miserable humans that wandered through the rubble of their city. Undertaker scratched his chin and he sighed. Perhaps he deserved this contempt. Then again, _he_ wasn't the one that swiped their borrowed automobile.

* * *

Ronald sighed as he moved along the ruined streets, searching for a car—any car that was preferably not crushed under rubble. Eventually, he did spot one car that didn't look too badly damaged, and he hopped down to the streets and pulled the door open. There were no keys in it, so he lay on his back on the floor boards to fiddle with the wires underneath. He didn't have experience hotwiring a car, but he and Eric had both worked together on their car and bike enough to have an idea of what he was doing.

Unfortunately, rather than hearing the car's motor turn over, he got a face full of sparks and heard a bang...black smoke curling up from under the hood.

"Shit." Ronald hurried away from the car, watching the smoke curl up skyward. "That one isn't for us, obviously..."

* * *

Several blocks away, William heard the noise and he saw the smoke rising from Ronald's general direction. He paused, considering whether he should go and investigate. He dug his phone out of his pocket and checked to see if his partner had tried to contact him and upon seeing no indication of such, he decided to contact him instead—just to be sure he wasn't in trouble. He pressed the quick dial and he kept walking, keeping a sharp eye out for their car or another they could "borrow" in the process.

"Honestly...reduced to theft in order to complete my mission. This is disgraceful." As distasteful as he found it, there was no getting around the fact that they required transport if they were to catch up with their quarry quickly.

"Singed but still sexy, speaking." Ronald greeted the call when he picked up, the display telling him it was William, so he figured he could get away with such an unprofessional greeting.

"What happened?" demanded William without ceremony. "I heard an explosion and saw smoke in the area you were assigned to. Have you come across opposition?"

"Only a car that proved to be more damaged than it looked. It didn't explode, but when I tried to see if it'd run..." Ron glanced at the black smoke, "Well, it protested convincingly that it's not the car for us."

William sighed, becoming familiar with this sense of relief in his breast whenever there was a close call concerning his partner. "Well _do_ be careful, Ronald. You are important to me."

The moment the words left his lips he flushed. The last reaper he'd said that to was the Undertaker, just before he went off to war. Then he'd come back a ruined, twisted maniac. It differed from his situation with Ronald because the relationship was not the same, but the sincerity of his feelings were just as potent.

Ronald grinned, swaying his shoulders back and forth, "You're important to me, too, William." his voice hid little of how pleased he felt, "You be careful, too."

He wished he could kiss the man then, but they needed to find a car or truck. So he started walking again, looking around. "I take it you haven't had any luck yet, either?"

"None," answered William. He crossed a broken street and he avoided looking at the charred remains of a corpse that the citizens hadn't yet collected for burial. "I think we may simply have to...oh...wait a moment."

William lowered the phone from his ear when he spotted the very car they had come in, parked next to a half-destroyed building. His hopes were perked and he brought the phone back to his ear. "Ronald, I believe I've found our wayward transport. My coordinates should be logged into your mobile. Come quickly so that we may retrieve it and contact—"

He halted in mid-sentence when he saw a figure emerging from the ruined building. It moved like any other man—even _looked_ like any other man...but something was odd about it. The figure wore a long coat and a hat, and it was wiping its mouth with a gloved hand. The skin was almost as pale as the Undertaker's and the unkempt brown hair spilling out from under the man's hat was wiry...like dead brush.

_~Careful, William!~_

He swatted irritably at the air, though he knew the whispers weren't simply gnats he could be rid of with a hand motion. As he watched, the figure raised its head and looked directly at him. The glittering gaze suddenly fixated on him had a film of milky-white over the irises, and there was a deadness in that gaze that could make even a reaper shudder.

He shouldn't have been able to see William at all, and yet he had.

William prudently ducked behind the corner of the building he was near and he whispered into the phone. "Ronald, come quickly. I believe I've found our fugitive...and he is aware of my presence. Contact the Undertaker on your way."

"Got it." Ronald's tone was serious, "And...be careful...really careful, Will. I don't want to lose you."

With that, he hung up and quickly called Undertaker's mobile phone, hardly waiting for the man's cheerful 'Hi, hi~' of a greeting before cutting him off as he hurried over the ruined city towards William's location, "William found our car and the uh...undead eaty-souls dude we are after!" He said, yet again forgetting what the creature was called. And he didn't even care. He had to move quickly.

"We need to move fast, Will's alone and could be in danger. He said he was spotted!"

Undertaker's voice sounded mildly surprised. "My, my, that happened faster than I thought it would. Be there in a jiffy, lad. Try not t' start without me!" He hung up the phone after that, leaving Ronald to go on his way.

* * *

Will tried to shut out the warnings raging in his head from the spirit world. They had been so quiet today up until he encountered the lich, but now they were almost as loud as they'd been the night before when the bombing happened. "Shut _up_ ," he whispered, breaking into a sweat. "I cannot concentrate with all your ruckus! If you don't wish me to be harmed then be _quiet_! Your warning has been received and noted."

Amazingly, they _did_ quiet down...and that took him by surprise. There was still the occasional worried whisper in his mind, but they were no longer screaming at him to run away. A slow smirk spread over his lips with the realization that the dead could be reasoned with. In time, he might learn to shut them out entirely when he had to traverse the mortal realm. William didn't have time to savor his small victory though; he could feel the chill presence of the undead abomination coming closer from around the bend. While very little could daunt him, he was also a prudent reaper and he knew better than to take on the creature before his backup arrived.

William quietly but swiftly inched away from the corner of the building and he made it around the other corner and out of sight just as the lich appeared around the corner he'd originally been hiding behind. Clutching his scythe tightly, the Dispatch supervisor employed evasive measures while he waited for his allies to arrive.

* * *

Ronald pocketed his phone as he ran, leaping up onto the roofs that still stood.

"Hold on, Will, I'm coming."

Finally, leaping from roof to roof, and sometimes lone standing walls, Ronald spotted their car parked outside a building, but there was no sign of William or the fugitive. Knowing they couldn't be far, he pressed on, leaping onto the roof of the building the car was parked outside of and making a circle around it to get an idea of what direction William may have gone.

The first thing he found was what could only be their target, stalking around a nearby corner. Ronald stopped and ducked behind the nearby chimney, pressing his back to it and peeking around to keep an eye on the creature while keeping his presence unknown until the time to strike came—or William needed him.

The Undertaker soon arrived as well, and he stood on the cracked edge of the roof of a building that was remarkably whole, compared to most of the other structures in the settlement. He tilted his head in contemplation as he looked down at the blurred figure of the lich below him. The creature sensed their presence. Good. He spotted Will coming around the side of the partially demolished building across from him, evidently attempting to avoid the undead being that seemed to be on his scent. He signaled to his former apprentice to get his attention, and William looked up at him. Undertaker saw him nod, and then the mortician spotted a glimpse of Ronald's sunny-gold head peeking from around the chimney of the next building over.

Undertaker whistled to signal his companions, and he waited for William to leap into action before jumping down himself.

Ronald glanced over, spotting the Undertaker standing on the roof opposite him, his silver hair like a ghost against the gray sky. Good. They were all there and stood a better chance at this working. At least, he assumed William was there. He couldn't see his lover from his vantage point.

He gripped his scythe, ready to take action, but held himself back. He'd gone against wayward records, demons, reapers, and even an angel once or twice. But This guy was something new. Something he knew very little about. Even a young, reckless man like him could tell that he shouldn't be making the first move.

William jumped out from behind the building and immediately extended his scythe to skewer the creature in the chest near the left shoulder. The lich barely reacted. He looked down at the pole sheers impaling him with a dull sort of acknowledgment, like it was a fly that had landed on his chest. The wound did not bleed, and the lich took his milky blue eyes off the scythe to stare at its owner.

"Ronald, now!" William yelled.

At that moment, the Undertaker jumped down from his vantage point and rather than join the attack against the lich, he came down behind William and he fit his scythe blade against his throat. William was too shocked to react immediately, and the mortician grinned at the lich and nodded his head in greeting.

" _Guten tag_ , Dr. Becker." Undertaker pressed the blade more firmly against William's throat in warning, prompting him to withdraw his scythe and banish it. "You've been a difficult chap to track down."

"I wondered when you would find me," replied the lich in German, his dead gaze flicking between Will and the Undertaker. His expression was dimly curious.

"What are you doing?" demanded William, finding his tongue again at last. "You traitorous—"

"Now, now, Will," chastised the mortician, drawing a drop of blood. "I'd advise you to save your breath. Shouting at me might make me slip and do more damage."

"What is this about?" questioned the lich. "I would assume this reaper to be your ally."

The Undertaker shrugged. "Him and his li'l friend served their purpose. Speaking of which, you might as well come out now, Mister Knox."

Ronald stood frozen in fear, his eyes wide and heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the scene below, hardly believing his eyes. This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream...a nightmare!

He had been about to leap down at the Lich when the Undertaker made his unexpected move, and Ron was left teetering on the edge of the roof above.

"Will..."

They had trusted Undertaker. Well, William had. Ronald had harbored some doubts, but he'd trusted William's trust. And now William could be killed by his old mentor. A split second and William could be gone forever. The realization of that was too much for Ronald and his body froze. He couldn't even think on how he could possibly save the man he'd fallen in love with.

"Why?" Demanded William, inwardly devastated that the reaper he'd once looked up to and admired so much would turn on him so completely. "What do you stand to gain by this betrayal, Undertaker?"

"An exchange," answered the mortician calmly, his vivid gaze still on the lich before them. "Oswald here wants immortality, and I want my research notes and material back. It doesn't belong in the hands of humans—not even altered ones like Becker. What do you say, old chap? Return what you took from me and I'll give you what you need to complete your transformation."

Oswald didn't look impressed. "As you can see, I have already succeeded in the transformation, my friend. You have nothing to offer me."

"Oh now, I wouldn't say that." The Undertaker grinned again. "You mustn't have taken the page that lists the final catalyst to become more than just a common lich—one that doesn't require a phylactery to retain immortality. As a mere leiche, you're still vulnerable. Become an arch lich and you can do away with that bauble entirely, without a care for the wrong person finding it and destroying it...and you."

Now the doctor seemed intrigued, and his gaze flicked to where Ronald still stood before focusing back on the mortician and his captive. "And what is this catalyst?"

The Undertaker looked at the younger reaper held at scythe-point in his arms. "The blood of a reaper. I wasn't about to offer my own, but Willy here has plenty of it to spare. You can bleed him for your potion, or you can bleed his young friend cowering up there on the roof. Doesn't matter to me...either would work just as well. In exchange, you relinquish my research material—all of it. You've got no further use for it anyhow, yeah?"

Becker looked at Will with a dark hunger in his clouded eyes. "I accept your terms. Bring them. There is a tomb in the graveyard just outside of town. We will conduct the procedure and the trade in there."

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Ronald screamed, losing his cool. Gripping his scythe handle so hard his knuckles turned white, he lept at Undertaker, scythe raised for attack.

Undertaker's lips rounded with surprise, but he hadn't survived for as long as he had by being unprepared for the unexpected. One arm around Will's waist, he jumped aside and he turned his prisoner so that Ronald would have to mow him down first, if he chose to repeat the attack.

"Language, Mister Knox," admonished the mortician. "That's no way t' speak to your elders!"

A thin trickle of blood seeped from under the blade pressed against Will's throat and he grimaced. "Ronald, go. Just get out of here and contact Dispatch. Tell them what has happened and—"

"Wouldn't advise that, if I were you," Undertaker broke in. He smiled at Ronald. "Try it and I'll reap him right here, and then I'll collect you, my fine lad, and our friend there can use _your_ blood instead of Will's. Now be a good chap and put that scythe away. You'll both make it out of this alive if you just cooperate."

"Don't listen to him, Ronald," insisted William, his expression neutral and frozen. "That creature cannot be allowed to complete whatever foul ritual they have planned. He cannot be permitted to achieve invulnerability."

"If he wants to see you die, he's welcome to follow your directive." Undertaker shrugged. "Up to you, Ronald."

When William was moved into his path of attack, Ronald withdrew and fell onto the ground, hitting hard on his shoulder. Holding it, he pushed himself back up, glaring, "You don't deserve respect!" he spat, "Let Will go-now!"

"I'll let him go soon as the good doctor gets what he needs—whether he draws it from William or you." Undertaker had his back turned to the lich and he winked at Ronald conspiringly, trying to give the boy a hint without speaking his true intentions out loud. From his experience, he knew that liches had excellent auditory sensory facilities and he didn't dare utter a single word that might give himself away.

Will of course couldn't see the expression from his precarious position, and he clenched his jaw in frustration. "Ronald, just go. Do not worry about me. If he dares follow through with his threat he'll foil his own intentions and you'll be long gone and out of their reach as a second option."

Undertaker clamped his free hand over Will's mouth to shut him up. "Quiet, you. This is between your young friend and I."

The blond narrowed his eyes. Just what was the man doing, winking at him like nothing was wrong as he held his scythe against William's neck? Was he asking for trust? Instead of helping them, he was using them for his own gain!

"If you think for one moment I'll be letting that _thing_ use William, you have another thing coming, bastard."

"You don't have much choice, lad. Either one of you gives over a couple vials of your blood or I reap him here. I'm sure you know which option I'd prefer."

"You are a disgrace," William gritted out, his shock and dismay fading to be replaced by anger. "How could I ever have believed you could still be redeemed? I trusted you...desired to help you! The depths at which you've sunk cannot be forgiven, Undertaker."

"Pity you feel that way, Willy. I _did_ warn you that things aren't always as they appear."

William frowned. He recalled no such warning being issued from his old mentor...at least not recently. If he'd said it in the past it must have been too long ago for him to recall. Suddenly he began to wonder what ulterior motives were lurking behind that laughing smile and clever gaze.

"We have waited long enough," informed the lich. "Simply collect the reaper's blood for me now and either dispatch them both or subdue them, Undertaker. I haven't the time to waste on negotiations."

"Well, that's a bit of a problem," answered the mortician. "You see, there's a bit of ritual involved in the blooding. I can't just open a vein and call it an evening, chap. We need to get out of sight and somewhere quiet so you can speak the proper incantations."

The lich hesitated, knowing from the previous ritual he'd already performed that each part of it required some form of ancient incantation. "Very well. If the boy won't come, then kill his companion and subdue him. It does not matter which one I bleed for the ritual, so long as I collect the reaper blood."

Undertaker looked at Ronald with a curious grin, tilting his head. Inwardly, he was urging the boy to do the smart thing and go along with it. "Well, Agent Knox? Should I do as he suggests and dispose of Willy here and now, or will you have the good sense to come along without a fuss? You've got ten seconds to decide before I finish Spears off and replace him with you...and I _will_ capture you before you can so much as swing that little scythe you're using."

Ronald gritted his teeth and banished his scythe. "Let him go," he hissed venomously, putting his hands up in a show of submission. It was only a few vials of blood...right? Better than seeing Will killed.

"After we've finished our little task," explained the Undertaker. "Becker, lead the way. I think they've come to their senses."

The lich turned and began to walk away, and the Undertaker followed, keeping a tight hold on William with his deadly scythe pressed warningly against his throat. Frustrated and confused as to why his old mentor was doing this and what he really hoped to achieve, Will had no choice but to go along with it. He dearly wished that Ronald had retreated when he had the chance, but there was no help for it now and he couldn't shake the feeling that the Undertaker had something up his sleeve. Was it a ruse? Did he truly mean to give this creature the means to become something even more monstrous...and possibly unstoppable?

"I hope you consider the implications of what you are doing," Will tried to reason as they passed through the town and past the broken gate of the cemetery. "Those research notes cannot possibly pose as much of a danger as allowing this...abomination to achieve full immortality, Undertaker."

"You just worry about putting one foot in front of the other, Willy," advised the mortician. "Trip and you could end up decapitated entirely by accident."

The lich led them to a large mausoleum and he opened the door to it with a rusty creak. "Inside and down," he said in German. "The chamber I have been using since arriving here will suffice as a work space."

"Whatever suits you," answered the Undertaker nonchalantly, quite used to staying in crypts beneath the ground himself. The lich's pale skin seemed to glow eerily as they stepped into the darkness of the structure and began descending the stone stairs. He paused to take a torch from the wall and he lit it with a muttered incantation, before continuing on with shuffling steps. They found themselves in a large round burial chamber at the bottom, and the lich nodded at the stone coffin in the center.

"Have him lie on that, Undertaker, and then you can share with me the missing piece of the ritual."

"Bring me those documents first," insisted the mortician. "I wasn't born yesterday, chap. Once I've got all of the material you stole in my hands, I'll share that information with you and you can be well on your way to godhood."

Becker scowled mistrustfully at him. "And how do I know that you will not simply take your fellow reapers and vanish, once you have what you ask for?"

"Curiosity," explained the Undertaker with a smile. "You know I'm rife with it. I'm just as interested as you are to see how this is going to turn out. I've never seen it done before, you know. Should be entertaining, at least."

"' _Entertaining'_?" Spat William. "You are about to unleash a horror on this world that could result in all of creation turning itself upside-down, and you find that _entertaining_?"

"What can I say?" Undertaker shrugged benignly, incidentally drawing another trickle of blood from Will's throat. "You know how far I'll go for a laugh, Willy. Now be a good boy and lie down like the gent said, and as soon as I get my research material this can all be over with quick."

The lich shuffled over to one of the burial chambers to fetch the requested notes while the Undertaker forced William to lie down on the coffin lid, keeping his blade pressed against his throat to ensure both his and Ronald's good behavior.

"Here you are, Undertaker," said Becker as he walked back to the mortician with a stack of documents tied together in his hands. "This is all of them. Now, the ritual details, if you please."

"Just a moment," said the mortician. He set the pile down on the lid beside Will and he flicked through the corners of the pages with one hand, still holding his scythe over William with his other hand. He nodded after a moment, satisfied that it was all there. "Right then. Have you a vial or a flask of some sort?"

The lich nodded and retrieved a flask from the burlap supply sack sitting next to the coffin. "Now, what do I do?"

"First make a cut to gather the blood," explained the mortician. "You might have to cut more than once, since reaper flesh heals wounds made by ordinary weapons quickly."

"Why not make the cut with your scythe so that it does not close?"

Undertaker didn't even blink. "Because that might kill the lad, and like I said; I'd rather not have to do that. Several cuts from a scalpel might be painful for him but he won't bleed out."

"And yet he will survive to return to his superiors and tell them about me," Becker pointed out.

The mortician smirked. "By then it'll be too late and not even Dispatch will be able to stop you. What's the danger?"

"You raise an interesting point." The lich reached into his supply bag again and he drew out a small medical kit. He opened it up and he retrieved a scalpel. William turned his head to look at Ronald as the creature took his arm and pushed his sleeve up to expose his wrist. William flinched but he made no verbal sound of protest as his flesh was cut into.

"Stop it!" Ronald rushed forward and pushed the Lich away from William, "I didn't come here to watch you torture my boyfriend! I'll do it!" He snatched the flask from him and turned to Undertaker, "Once I'm done you let him go, filthy old geezer."

He held out his hand, "Give me the stupid knife."

The lich scowled at Ronald, but the Undertaker shrugged. "Doesn't matter who makes the cuts, so long as you collect it and repeat this chant, Becker. Let the boy have his way and repeat after me."

Undertaker then said something slowly in some foreign tongue that Will couldn't identify. It sounded vaguely Egyptian—which made sense considering all of the lore from that part of the world concerning the underworld and the preservation of the dead.

The blood began to drain into the flask as the lich repeated the incantation as advised, but as the Undertaker said, the cut soon closed and Ronald had to make a fresh one. Will grimaced, enduring the sting of the scalpel again and again until the flask was finally full. He kept his eyes on Ronald the entire time, watching the terrible guilt and frustration on his young face resurface each time he had to cut him.

Ronald couldn't handle it any longer. The flask was almost full and one, maybe two more cuts would fill it, but he was unable to keep cutting Will. And his blood was just as good, right? So, rather than cut open William, he sliced open his hand across the palm and squeezed his fist to work out more blood , watching it ooze out from between his fingers and drip into the vial until it was full. He handed it to the man and turned his attention to Undertaker once more, "Now remove your bloody scythe and let us get the hell out of this hellhole!"

"No need to get snippy," chided the Undertaker. He didn't move right away, unwilling to risk either of his companions interfering with the rest of the event.

Once Oswald had the catalyst he needed, the lich looked to the Undertaker expectantly and straightened up. "And now?"

"Drink it all down, just like you did the blood of the mortals and the animals you sacrificed to do the previous rituals."

Becker stared at the flask of bright reaper blood for a moment, and then he brought it to his lips and tilted his head back to drink it all down greedily. Undertaker removed his scythe from Will's neck and he helped him to sit up and get off of the coffin, gathering up his research notes as he did so.

Will shook his head and compressed his lips, glaring at the creature with disgust. "Whatever happens from here on out is on your head, Undertaker."

"I'll keep that in mind," said the mortician with maddening cheer. "Well Oswald, how do you feel? Any different?"

The lich finished draining the flask and he dropped it to the floor, leaving it to shatter. He looked a bit unsteady on his feet and faintly euphoric. "I feel...bliss," he admitted softly, his thin, pale lips stretching into a macabre grin to reveal rotting teeth. "This is...fantastic. Like an opiate!"

"Is it, now? Then I s'pose that means it's working, eh?"

The Undertaker's intense gaze remained fixated on the lich, and William looked between the two of them with growing horror. Heavens, he'd really gone through with it. The madman he'd once thought of so highly had turned completely to evil, and he was no better than a demon.

Then William noticed something odd. The lich began to stagger as if intoxicated, and he fell against the coffin. Becker seemed to be aware something wasn't right as well, and he looked up at the mortician with an expression of dawning comprehension on his withered face. "Poison," he rasped. "You've poisoned me."

Oswald clawed at the top of the coffin in an attempt to stay on his feet, and a chill began to permeate the chamber. Undertaker tilted his head and watched as the lich slowly sank to the floor, rapidly losing his strength.

"After a fashion," agreed the mortician. "Of course, there exists no poison in the known world that could actually have an effect on one of your kind, but a little known fact of lich anatomy is that ingestion of a reaper's blood has an awfully potent, drugging result on them. Found that out when one of 'em bit me to have a taste of mine once. Bad mistake, that. Dumb luck for me, though. It made him a lot easier to dispatch."

"You...betraying...fiend," gasped the lich. He fell to the floor and he twitched helplessly, his body becoming paralyzed by the reaction to Will's blood.

"True enough," agreed the Undertaker. He grinned at his companions and tossed them a wink. "Just so happens the betrayal wasn't what it seemed."

Ronald's eye twitched. "You're still a fucking bastard!" he said, taking a swing at Undertaker, surprised when his fist actually made contact with the man's jaw, "You could have bloody told us you had a fucking plan! We would have gone along with it and you wouldn't have had to threaten Will! Shit, I really loathe you, idiot!" He cursed, still feeling the adrenalin of panic coursing through his veins. He didn't even care if William would scold him later. Undertaker should have let them know what his bloody plan was! He'd had plenty of time, after all!

"Well I didn't exactly _know_ what I was going to do, until I got word that Will spotted him," excused the mortician, rubbing his sore jaw. Bloody hell, the lad could throw a mean punch. He was sorely tempted to put him on his mouthy little arse and remind him of whom he was addressing, but that could wait. "The idea came to me at the spur of the moment and I couldn't exactly just blurt it out in front of him, could I?"

William stared at him, unable to completely mask his amazement and relief. "Then this ritual to become an arch lich does not really exist?"

"Oh, it does," assured the Undertaker, still rubbing his jaw, "but I gave him a rubbish version of it. Truth be told, I really _haven't_ ever seen or heard of anyone succeeding at it, so it's likely just a myth. The ritual he _did_ complete is obviously the real thing though, and with that in mind..."

Undertaker snatched up the torch that Becker had put in the wall sconce and he put it to the pile of papers in his hand, setting them on fire. He waited until it caught well enough before dropping it to the floor to let the flames consume it. A little sigh escaped him as he watched a good chunk of his own research go up in smoke and ash, and when it was nothing more than a smoldering pile, he stomped it out. He put the torch back up, and he brushed his hands off on his robes.

"That's that," said the ancient. "Now while our friend there snoozes the sleep of the inebriated, we ought to look for that phylactery. If we're fortunate he's been keeping it on him in his travels. Otherwise we'll just have to hack him into bits and bury his pieces far enough away from each other to keep him from putting himself back together anytime soon."

"And I suppose cremation would not work?" Questioned William with a disgusted look at the ruin of what was once a man, lying there on the floor drooling. He could hardly believe they'd subdued him so easily.

"Fire doesn't burn lich flesh, unfortunately," explained the mortician, "so that option is out. Let's start searching the chamber. If we can't find the phylactery, then mayhap we can find a clue leading to it."

William looked around, searching for anything that might be the object containing the lich's soul. "Tell me something; if the ritual you gave to him was 'rubbish', then what was that chant all about?"

Undertaker picked up a jar he'd found and he smashed it on the floor just in case. "Oh, that. It was a recipe for Bamya. I just repeated the instructions in the language of its country of origin, is all. Lucky for us Oswald doesn't know Egyptian."

William raised a brow and glanced at Ronald, but the blond wasn't likely to know what that was anymore than he did. "And what pray tell is 'Bamya', sir?"

Undertaker grinned, his white teeth stained with his blood from where they'd cut the inside of his cheek when Ron socked him. "Meat and okra stew. It's Quite tasty, actually. Mayhap I can cook us up a batch after this." He looked at Ronald with a sullen expression. "None for you though, 'punchy'. You can fend for yourself."

"You deserved that knuckle sandwich I gave you, and you know it!" Ron huffed.

Before the Undertaker could open his mouth for a rebuttal, Will intervened. "We can argue the finer points of communicating plans with each other later. For now, let us focus on locating the object or a clue that may lead us to it, shall we?"

His head was beginning to hurt again, and he was having difficulty shutting out the voices of the dead. He noticed the Undertaker cocking his head as if listening to someone again, and he knew the ancient heard them too.

"What's that?" blurted Undertaker with a bloodied frown. He looked across the room and he started walking over to one of the burial chambers, boots crunching on human remains scattered over the floor. He peered into the shadowed cavity before reaching in to pull out a shrouded body. He carried it over to the coffin and he laid the remains on top of the object, before unwrapping it to reveal the decaying remains inside. The body was fairly fresh and it reeked enough to make Will gag and hastily grab the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. She must have been one of the lich's latest dinners.

"What in heavens," choked William as the Undertaker stared down at the female cadaver thoughtfully. He went quiet when the mortician pried her stiffened jaw open and began to reach his hand into her mouth. "Undertaker...what are you _doing_?"

"Hush, Willy...I'm trying to listen."

William gave him a scandalized look before walking over to Ronald and murmuring into his ear. "Send a text to Agent Slingby while he is occupied. Give our coordinates and tell him to send backup immediately. I shall block the Undertaker's view of you."

Surely the man was having another fit of madness. Even if they _did_ find the Phylactery down here and put an end to the lich, his old mentor was simply too dangerous and unpredictable. Dispatch could find a way to hold the lich indefinitely if they must; even if they had to dissect the creature and store its parts in separate vaults to keep it from re-animating again. He despised the thought of going back on his word after promising not to try and arrest the Undertaker when this was all over with, but leaving him to his own devices was certainly just as dangerous as leaving a lich at large.

"...You sure?" Ron asked as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He eyed the little cuts on Will's neck with a frown. he reached up and touched them with his gloved fingers, "Are you okay? You lost a fair amount of blood and-I'm sorry...I...I didn't know what else to do...I really thought he'd kill you, you know?"

As he spoke, he typed his text without taking his phone out of his pocket. He was an expert at doing so and Eric was on his speed contact list, so he didn't have to search for his number to shoot a quick message to. He held off on sending it, though. He wanted to make sure Will wanted to betray Undertaker.

William clenched his jaw and nodded. "It is as much for his good as for the world's. I see that now. Please send it, Ronald."

Meanwhile, the Undertaker was digging around in the corpse's mouth, shoving his hand far down her throat. There was a sickening crack as the cadaver's jaw broke from the treatment and William looked away from the spectacle in disgust. After a moment, the mortician withdrew his hand—along with something shiny and wet dangling on the end of a loop of leather string. Will stared at it as his old mentor held it up to the light. It appeared to be a small pewter bottle, no bigger than a vial of perfume.

"Is that what we are after?" questioned Will as it occurred to him that the Undertaker had been directed to search the body by the spirits of the dead communicating with him.

"Seems that way," answered the mortician absently, his nose crinkling as the bottle spun slowly on the end of the string. "Only one way to find out, yeah?"

Undertaker grinned down at the now unconscious lich and he nudged him with his boot. When he got no response, he shrugged. "Hmm, too bad. I'd have liked to see your face when I smash this li'l trinket, if it really is your phylactery. I s'pose it's for the best, though. Your ilk screams loud enough t' wake the dead and give a man a three-day ear ache when you pass on."

"Is that all ya need to do? Smash it? Sounds too easy to me." Ron said as his thumb pressed the send button on his phone. Then he pulled out his handkerchief from the same pocket and wet it with his tongue before trying to clean the tiny cuts on Will's neck. "Seems we should at least use a scythe or something."

"Well, yes," revised the mortician with a shrug, summoning his scythe once more. "I meant smash it with the scythe—and believe me, it's going to shatter to pieces so you chaps might want to duck and cover when I do this. Plug your ears too, just in case."

"And what of yours?" asked William as he took the advice and squatted down on the floor. "If the sound may be as loud as you say, will it not trouble you as well?"

The mortician grinned. "I've already got a lot of noise going on in my head, Willy. I've learned to live with it."

He bent over to put the item on the floor and he raised his scythe, taking careful aim. "So long, doctor. I'd say it was nice knowing you, but after the rubbish you pulled we both know that would be a fib."

He was so intent on his task that he didn't notice the portal opening up behind him, at first. Just as the Undertaker was about to strike with his reaper weapon, he sensed it and he started to turn— just in time to see Eric Slingby come charging out of said portal like a Rugby player, with Alan Humphries and three other Dispatch officers following close behind. The Undertaker's eyes widened, and his breath expelled from his lungs in a surprised huff as the Scotsman bowled into him, tackling him to the floor. His scythe flew out of his hands and it spun away as the back of his head struck the floor hard enough to make him see stars. Not one to remain surprised for long, Undertaker drove his knee right into Eric's groin and then he kicked him away, sending him flying backwards and crashing into the wall. Eric groaned, in two kinds of pain as his partner and the others rushed in to subdue the Undertaker before he could recover completely from the ambush and retrieve his scythe.

"The vial," William called out, "Do not lose it!"

"Bloody hell," snapped the Undertaker, dancing aside from one agent's twirling scythe just in time to avoid getting clipped by it. He shot an irritated look at William. "Now just who's betraying whom, here?"

"My apologies," responded William with calm he did not truly feel. "I said that Agent Knox and I would not attempt to arrest you once our partnership is finished. I never promised the agreement would extend to our coworkers."

William spotted the phylactery and he extended his own summoned scythe, shooting it out to grasp the item with the sharp blades of his weapon. He activated them and just as the Undertaker had warned, the phylactery shattered into a billion shards and seemed to explode in all directions. A purple wisp of smoke resembling a skull lingered in the air where it had been for a moment before dissipating, and the body of the lich on the floor seemed to wither to a husk with an ungodly shriek that shook the very walls.

"Ahhg!" Ronald slapped his hands over his ears, the sheer volume of the shriek making him dizzy.

"What on Earth?" Alan gasped, falling to his knees and dropping his scythe to try and protect his ears. The other reapers all reacting similarly, but the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that the sound—whatever it was—wouldn't trigger an attack.

Undertaker used their disorientation to his advantage. As he'd said to Will before: he was used to dealing with noise even when there wasn't a physical sound to be heard for miles. He snatched up his scythe and he vaulted right over the back of one of the agents, who was crouched down covering his ears like the others. He thought he heard William swear loudly as he ran up the steps and out of the mausoleum, and he smirked as he took off into the night and prepared a portal away from the location.

* * *

"He portaled sir," reported one of the agents that had chased after the Undertaker. "Should I follow, or should I wait for backup?"

William shook his head, glancing at the others as he paced the structure with his phone to his ear. "No, for the love of Styx do _not_ follow through that portal. Should you attempt it you will never reach the other side alive—or even recognizable to those who would mourn you. Abort the pursuit and return to headquarters. I will wrap things up here with the other officers."

"Yes sir."

The agent hung up the phone and Will sighed, looking around at the others now standing outside the mausoleum with him. "It was a valiant attempt, but I am afraid the Undertaker has escaped our grasp, for now. You two return to Headquarters and I shall prepare the report."

The other two junior officers saluted him and portaled out, and Will looked sidelong at Eric. The Scotsman was watching him expectantly, with his arms crossed over his chest. "I suppose you wish to know why I never informed you that our source for this mission was the Undertaker, Slingby."

Eric shrugged. "I think I already know, boss. If he was yer best hope o' catching tha' creature then ya did what yeh had tae do."

"Then why do you stare at me with such suspicion?"

Eric glanced at his partner before answering. "Jus' seemed awfully convenient fer tha auld madman when yeh shattered tha' thing in there right about tha time when we had him backed in a corner. We could've had him, if it weren't fer tha' banshee scream tha' nearly shattered our eardrums."

"Well...in his defense we didn't know when that Lich thing would be able to get up again...and if he stole back his—what's it called—then we'd be back to square one...this time without the Undertaker," Ron pointed out, his ears still ringing as he tried to get them to pop in an attempt to relieve them. "Besides, Will was the one to tell me to text you for backup. Damn, that thing was loud as hell..."

Alan placed his hand on Eric's arm, "Eric, in reality that sound should have rendered Undertaker as useless as the rest of us. It's amazing that he was able to get away."

The Scotsman shrugged. "Aye, fair enough. Guess Will couldn't have known he'd be able tae shrug it off like tha'."

"Indeed," agreed William coolly.

_"I've already got a lot of noise going on in my head, Willy. I've learned t' live with it."_

William avoided looking at Ronald as those words played in his head again. Had he somehow subconsciously sabotaged his associate's capture attempt after all? He could argue that he'd broken the phylactery at that moment because he did not want to risk the lich recovering and escaping. He could say that it made no sense for him to order Ronald to contact Dispatch with their coordinates if his intention was to allow the Undertaker to escape. Truthfully though, he'd had doubts and he could not deny the feelings of guilt that had washed through him when his former mentor asked who the _real_ traitor was between them.

"We should gather the remains of that creature and transport them to the science department for examination," Will finally said. "As far as I am concerned, our division's part in this war is finished now. We have done more than our part to balance the scales and we shall leave the other divisions to sort out the rest. Let us finish up here and return home."

Eric glanced at him as the supervisor went back into the mausoleum to get started, and then he clapped Ronald on the shoulder in a friendly gesture of affection. "Better luck next time, eh kid? At least now ya can finally come home, and me and Alan can get back tae our usual work."

"Yeah..." Ron rubbed the back of his neck, "It'd be nice to go home and...to never eat another potato anything again..."

Strange, how he wasn't as excited and enthusiastic as he thought he'd be after hearing that he could go home. He glanced over at William, a strangely solemn look on his youthful features.

William was unaware of his lover's gaze on him as he unzipped a body bag brought through a portal by another agent. The voices were chattering in his head and all he wanted to do was get out of the mortal realm for some peace and quiet. A nice hot bath and a glass of wine was forefront on his mind—perhaps enjoying the later while relaxed on his couch at home with Ronald by his side. He would present the idea to Knox after they finished up here. For now, he didn't even want to think about the Undertaker anymore or the likelihood that his superiors would send him on a mission to track the mortician down again and attempt to capture him.

* * *

-To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

"I regret to inform you that the fugitive known as the Undertaker escaped from us," William informed the board later that evening after transporting the remains of the lich and turning in his reports. "I formally apologize for my failure to inform the board of his involvement in our case. The situation was...not ideal."

"And why did you see fit not to report such a crucial bit of information?" demanded one of the board members.

William steeled himself. "With all due respect, it was not conducive to the completion of the assignment for me to do so. Had I reported that we were cooperating with the Undertaker in order to eliminate this threat, Dispatch would have intervened in an attempt to bring him in. The Undertaker served as our guide and ultimately, it was his assistance that allowed Agent Knox and myself to finally locate and destroy the lich. I had my subordinate contact Officer Slingby at once with this information as soon as our quarry was located and the means to destroy him were open—as the call logs will tell you."

The board members mumbled amongst themselves while he stood their awaiting their judgment, and finally the head of the board spoke up. "Your results are indisputable in the matter of the lich, Agent Spears, but the fact that you withheld vital information about a known criminal and then failed to apprehend him afterwards cannot be ignored. However, you are the best-suited officer we currently have to supervise your division, and so demoting you would be detrimental to our best interests. Consider yourself on probation from this day forth until informed otherwise, and any further instances of secret keeping from this organization may not only cost you your position, but it may result in a jail sentence as well. Meeting adjourned."

William bowed cordially. "Thank you sir. Good day, sir."

He left the room and he held onto his stoic front until he reached the elevator. Will leaned against the wall after pressing the button for his office floor and he rubbed his temples. The voices were gone but his composure was shaken, and he was still feeling conflicted about the entire situation with the Undertaker. They were going to ask him to go after him again, he was sure of it. If not him, then someone else. Perhaps the board would decide that he had too much of a conflict of interests due to his past relationship with the mortician, or perhaps they would expect him to redeem and prove himself by capturing him.

"Either way," he whispered, borrowing one of Ronald's terms, "I'm fucked."

* * *

Ronald glanced down at his cell phone screen, double-checking the apartment number William had texted him; The twelfth floor, number twenty-four. It matched the fancy silver number marking the door he stood outside of.

The blond tucked his phone away in his pocket and tucked the bottle of wine he'd picked up under his arm. He'd cleaned up nicely, combing his hair and dressing up in one of his favorite 'date' outfits consisting of a tan silk shirt, black pants, and a simple black blazer with orange lining. He wanted to look nice as this would be their first date—even if they would be staying in.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and knocked firmly on the door. William answered it after a few moments, dressed in an elegant ensemble of a dark gray suit with a deep blue tie. The one thing that spoiled the suave picture was the apron he wore over the outfit. As soon as he opened the door he went still, his eyes inspecting Ronald with appreciation. It took him a moment to find his tongue and he stepped aside to let the younger reaper in.

"Please come in and have a seat in the parlor," invited Will. "Dinner is nearly ready. You look...very dashing."

He almost said "delicious", his mind torn between dinner and the treat of a date he would be eating it with. In fact, an odd mental image of himself eating off Ronald's nude body popped into his head and Will inwardly admonished himself for allowing his thoughts to go there. He took the wine from his lover and he showed him to the parlor.

"The television remote is right there on the coffee table," explained Will with a gesture at the glass-top designer piece sitting in front of his modular lounge set. "Do feel free to watch if you like while I put this over ice and finish in the kitchen. Tonight we'll be having beef rouladen with sautéed vegetables. No potatoes, I promise."

Ronald couldn't help himself from teasing the man, "You know, the apron just doesn't fit the ensemble; you should loose it-or everything else." He winked as he stepped in and glanced around the rather lavish apartment.

Rich. Ronald knew he shouldn't be so surprised with William's supervisor position and constant overtime hours-not to mention how the man never took vacation days, but the man lived a comfortable life at home. True, it wasn't a fancy pent house with a killer view and private elevator, but it was a whole lot more than what he was used to. All his money when to one of three things apart from living expenses. His wardrobe, his bike, and his partying. He didn't even have a proper bed in his small run-down apartment.

He let out an impressed whistle, "Man, remind me never to invite you to my place." He said, ignoring the remote and choosing instead to walk around the room looking at the things on walls and shelves. "This place is nice."

"Thank you," called William from the kitchen. "I only recently replaced the furniture in the parlor."

He checked on the food and he decided it was ready to be served. He turned the stove and the burners off, and then he opened the wine and poured two glasses. Once he set those out on the glass-top table he plated their dinners up and brought them to the table. Removing his apron and hanging it on the hook in the walk-in pantry, Will took his seat at the table and called Ronald to dinner.

"I do hope you enjoy it," he said when his lover joined him. "I debated over whether I should cook something from German cuisine or something else, but I would still like to demonstrate that there is much more than potatoes to it."

He smirked wryly and unfolded his napkin to place in his lap. Lifting his wine glass, he proposed a toast. "Here's to a relaxing reprieve, before we must return to our usual duties."

Will chose not to mention that he was on probation. He didn't think he could bear the sympathy he'd likely get from Ronald.

Ronald finished getting comfortable in his seat and raised his glass. "I'll toast to that." He smiled, clinking their glasses together and causing the crystal to ring out a harmonious tone. He then took a delicate sip, not wanting to fall into his drinking habits and ruin their evening together.

"So, how did the meeting go with the board?" Ronald asked, picking up his fork and knife to cut into his meal. "I take it by the toast you just made, that they aren't going to make us go back to finish out the war collections?"

Stabbing a forkful of food, he looked up at William, awaiting his answer as he tried not to shovel the food into his mouth like a classless wretch. "Mmm, you're really are a great cook..."

William cut into his meat with a quiet little smile. "I'm pleased you enjoy it. The meeting...was rather tense. The board did not look kindly on my decision to keep the Undertaker's involvement in our case to myself, but our vanquishing of the lich tipped the scales. We have both been given a week's vacation to re-acclimate and rest up, and then it will return to business as usual until we are told otherwise."

William collected a bite on his fork and he paused, sighing. Perhaps he could part with a bit more, even if he didn't mention his probation. "I expect they will want the Undertaker tracked down and brought in eventually, if possible. He'd gone quiet for so long that the urgency of it died down, but his resurfacing again during this war has them concerned. It certainly doesn't help that he has been creating his dolls again."

"Can I ask a...questionable question?" Ronald asked, taking another bite and mentally reminding himself to swallow before continuing. "I stood up for you when Eric laid in on you about it, but the old man did say he was used to noise or whatever. You destroyed the Lich guy in that moment in order to give Undertaker a chance at escape...didn't you?"

William started to say that it was a preposterous assumption, but then he recalled his own doubts. He sipped his wine before answering carefully. "Honestly, Ronald? I'm not certain. A part of me assumed that gods awful sound would not occur, since the lich was incapacitated. Still, I wonder if a bigger part of me could not go through with the betrayal."

Ron nodded. "Thought so. The guy isn't really that bad, ya'know? I mean, I totally stand by that punch to the jaw I gave him, but...despite his crazy ways of thinking, he did help us out a lot in more than one way."

William lowered his gaze in contemplation, still clinging to the hope that somehow, his former mentor could be saved from his madness. He forked up some of his vegetables and he blew lightly on them. "There yet remains some part of the reaper I once knew within him. You have only seen a few grains of the man I used to know. Had you the opportunity to meet him as he was in my youth, I've no doubt you would admire him the way I did."

Will shook himself out of his nostalgic thoughts and he met Ronald's gaze. "But enough of all that, for now. I'd rather not spoil this evening with dark and dreary subjects. This evening is about us and our first date. The subject of the Undertaker can wait for another time."

"Yeah, sorry. I was just curious and it's been on my mind since we got back to London." Ronald chuckled almost nervously. "Man, I know we have been together for a while and I've a rep for being a great date, but somehow I still feel nervous about making this one a good one. The ways you make me feel, Will..." he reached across the glass table to take the man's hand and then he gave a smirk "I guess I just have fallen for you that hard."

Will's expression softened and he returned the squeeze of Ronald's hand. "I can relate," he admitted softly. Never before had he felt so comfortable with another reaper—not even with the Undertaker. There was no need for him to hide every single emotion behind a frozen mask, and no need to feel intimidated or desperate for approval.

Ronald smiled and pushed himself up, moving around to press a kiss to Will's lips. "Just a sample of dessert," he whispered before sitting back down. "Hey, I was thinking...if you don't mind us moving things around out there, maybe we could clear an area in the parlor and dance a bit. Let me shake off the rust before we go out dancing on a later date."

"Actually I would find that quite pleasant," agreed William. "I haven't danced with a partner in some time, myself. After we've had dessert I'll be happy to turn on the stereo and have a practice dance or two."

Will smiled in spite of himself. The night was turning out better than he'd expected. He still looked forward to going out on the town eventually, but the events they'd endured in Germany were still fresh on his mind, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to sleep without some form of medicinal aid for a while. He kept expecting to hear the voices, and he felt oddly alone without them. It made him antsy to get back to the mortal realm and he dared not admit it to anyone. William was starting to understand why the Undertaker chose to forsake the Shinigami realm. It wasn't healthy in the slightest, but hearing and sensing the dead was oddly addictive. Ronald might just prove to be the ideal distraction from his dangerous urgings.

"Great! I'll try not to step on your toes too much." Ronald grinned, "What kind you feel like? Waltz? Tango?"

"I'm rather partial to the Waltz, myself," admitted William with a smirk. He took the bite of food on his fork and he washed it down with a sip of water.

"Either is good for me." Ron smiled, "But I'm not sorry for any wandering hands you may experience."

"I can accept that," Will said with a smirk, "at least while in the privacy of this apartment."

Of course there was a danger of Ronald's flirtation exciting Will to the point of forgetting his intention to wait until they'd finished at least one date before bedding him. The waiting had been difficult enough as it was.

"Good!" Ronald said, turning back to his dinner, "Because the investigation kept us too busy for even a good snog session and I need to get my fix." Grinning, he took a large bite of food.

Oh, Ronald would get his snog session, all right. William fully intended to deliver on that front. He just hoped he could maintain enough self control not to get carried away too soon.

Thinking of the last time they made out and ended up frotting together, Will finished his glass of wine and poured himself another, before topping up Ronald's glass.

* * *

After dinner and a dessert of tiramisu, they let their food digest a bit before moving into the parlor to dance. William put on some appropriate music, and he led Ronald into the dance.

It didn't take Ronald long before he stepped on William's toes, noticing the lapse in his footing only because William winced and gave a little grunt. Ron sighed, "And here I had hoped I wouldn't blunder our first dance like that... I'm sorry, Will. I can try taking off my shoes."

"It's quite all right," encouraged William. He guided his partner through the dance steps with confidence. "You will find your feet with a bit of practice. One, two, three. One, two, Three."

He kept counting aloud to help Ronald keep the rhythm until the blond's stiffness eased up and he thought he could keep time on his own. Will nodded in approval, gazing into Ron's eyes. "Very good. You see? It only required some getting used to the steps."

"Maybe it's also my dancing partner." Ronald grinned up at him, lifting his gaze up from watching their feet. He leaned in, closing the distance between their bodies and pressing up against him as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

William found the gesture both endearing and titillating. Here he was with this attractive, charming young man in his arms and somehow he had managed to resist letting his hands wander. The temptation to do so was getting stronger by the moment and the wine had loosened him up a bit.

Before Will knew it, he locked eyes with Ronald and he closed the distance between their mouths. The moment his lips met Ronald's he knew he was in trouble, and his hands tightened their hold on his partner's.

"Mmm..." Ronald closed his eyes, pressing into the kiss so needily that their glasses clicked together. He moved his hand off Will's shoulder and slid it down and around to grab his butt, giving it a fond squeeze.

Will nearly jumped in surprise at the bold, sudden move and he conceded defeat in the contest of who could surprise whom the most. He hummed in his throat and he returned the gesture...two could play at this game.

Ronald's bum was delightfully firm in his hands and Will gave it a squeeze. He turned with Ronald and he backed him toward the couch, his mind suddenly on other activities besides dancing.

Ronald hummed, enjoying the touches from his lover. Sometimes it still felt like a dream that they were an item, now. But they were, and William was surprisingly open to shows of affection.

"Can I spend the night, Will?" he whispered against his lips.

Will hesitated for a moment. Now that they were home and officially dating, he wondered if he could hold back any longer if Ronald shared his bed. Still, they'd never formally decided on how many dates they should go on before consummating their romantic relationship and technically, they had been a couple for months, now. Just how long did the average reaper couple wait to bed one another after they began dating? He honestly could not say, but at least they'd made it through one date—even though they hadn't gone out anywhere.

"I would like that very much," he murmured at last. He almost asked Ronald if he thought tonight should be the special night, but Will decided that wasn't a very romantic way to do things. Scheduling their first time together seemed too formal; even to him. He would just see where the evening took them.

He lowered his mouth to Ronald's for another kiss, taking his time plundering his mouth before pulling back again. "Shall we move this to the sofa, then? We could turn off the music and see if there is anything interesting on television...or simply leave it playing and focus on one another."

He knew which option he'd prefer, but he extended the courtesy of asking his date's opinion for politeness' sake.

"I doubt I'd pay the telly any mind either way." Ronald husked, "My lips on yours. That's what'll end up happening. And maybe a little bit of neck action...wandering hands..." he gave Will's rear another squeeze to emphasize his point.

His intentions weren't to tempt William into going all the way, but he wouldn't mind if that was what happened. He'd never gone this long without sexual release before. But when the time was right, it'd be right for them both.

* * *

An hour later found the pair making out heavily on the sofa. William had tried to take his time with it, slowly brushing the back of his knuckles over Ronald's cheeks as he kissed him, then steadily migrating down his body. Eventually he got the younger reaper's shirt unbuttoned and his hands explored his entire torso, before slipping down below the waist. Ronald had a smattering of light raspberry marks all over his throat from Will's lips that were sure to raise some eyebrows if anyone from work happened to see them, but he wasn't particularly concerned. They had the week off some R&R, and he could take advantage of that and mark his territory a bit before he had to concern himself with office rumors starting. Not that he had any intention of hiding their relationship, but he wasn't going to make a spectacle of it, either. Will's hand settled over Ronald's swollen package and a low sound of need arose in his throat as he fondled it. His own designer pants were feeling quite tight, the material straining over his arousal as he felt his date up.

"I think my attempt to be a gentleman tonight is fast proving to be a failed endeavor," he purred, his breath warm against the skin he was worshiping.

"Nah," Ronald whispered, rubbing himself against Will's palm, "You're the most gentlemanlike date I have ever had. You should win a prize for that...here, let me give it to you." He pinched open William's fly and dove his hand in to grip his thick, needful member in his hand, giving it a few firm strokes before lowering his mouth again onto Will's neck.

"Dear gods," gasped William. He pushed into Ronald's hand impulsively, head tilting back and eyes shutting. So much for his plans to hold back for a while longer. He simply didn't think he was capable of depriving himself any longer of what his body craved. "Ronald...that's...I really don't know how much more I can take. You've...no idea how much I want you."

"Glad to know the feeling's mutual." Ronald moaned against Will's soft flesh, his free hand moving to the buttons of Will's shirt so that more skin was exposed. He breathed in as his kisses fell over the man's shoulders.

"This is a different cologne than what you had in Germany..." he observed, "I like it..."

"It's an old favorite that I picked up after I left work," answered Will, "and I'm pleased that you like it."

He was getting antsy, desiring more but unwilling to let it progress much further on the couch. He kissed Ronald deeply, his tongue lancing in to dance with his for a moment before retreating. "Shall we move this into the bedroom?"

"Bedroom? Oh, yeah, probably should...harder to get sex stains out of upholstery than it is sheets..." Ron muttered, though he didn't move from his spot on William, still stroking him slowly and firmly.

Will found Ron's stroking entirely too distracting. He tried to concentrate, but all he could seem to do was push into his fondling hand and reciprocate the touch. Nobody had ever had such a powerful effect on him and made him feel so much at the mercy of his sex drive.

He nipped at Ronald's throat and he undid his pants to touch him without the barrier of clothes getting in his way. He longed to shove him down on the couch and just take him right there, but there were certain items he would require that he had stored in his bedroom.

"Come," he gasped, unaware of his own inadvertent pun. He stopped his fondling and he took Ron's hands in his, forcing him to pause his loving attentions as well. "We shall never make it off of this couch, if we keep going."

Ronald grinned, letting off a small chuckle, "I'll 'come' any time you wish me to." he winked before finally moving so that they could go to Will's bedroom. He didn't know the layout of the apartment, so he let William be his guide.

William's bedroom was very modernized and elegant, like the rest of his apartment. Wall sconces lit the room in a soft luminance as he guided his lover into it and hit the light switch. He closed the vertical blinds to ensure privacy and he urged Ronald over to the Queen-sized platform bed, where a bookshelf was built into the top of the headboard. Pushing his companion assertively onto the bed, Will followed him down and pinned him to the indigo sheets. He'd changed the bedding as soon as he got home, but he honestly didn't care how soiled it got tonight. He could change it again tomorrow, if need be.

Pushing his shoes off, Will trapped Ronald's mouth with his and he kissed him with intensive passion, expressing himself as usual in ways he tended to fail at with words.

"You got fancy, expensive taste... Ron moaned, "How on Earth did _I_ end up yours?" He let the joke trail off as he pulled at William's remaining clothes to get them removed.

"I prefer to think of it as having _good_ taste," purred William. He slipped out of his dress shirt and he lifted his hips so that Ronald could get the pants off more easily. His lips again caught Ronald's and he kicked his pants the rest of the way off carelessly, before focusing in doing the same with his lover's. There was a slight problem though. Will had shoved his shoes off as they walked through the door, but Ronald's were still on and they were in the way.

"One moment..." Will eased his body off of Ronald's long enough to stand up grab hold of his ankles and lift them so that he could remove the offending footwear. He then pulled the blond's pants off smoothly and he took a moment to feast his eyes on the sight of him—now clad in nothing but his unbuttoned shirt. "How in Styx did I manage to wait this long?"

Grinning, Ronald stretched out on the bed, posing with one hand over his head on the pillow, and the other lightly resting on his bare hip. His hooded gaze locked on William's. "I haven't the faintest idea." he moaned in his most enticing tone, "How did you?"

"Perhaps it was because I was going mad," postulated the older reaper dryly—though he was only half-joking. His distraction with the situation they were in and the added strain of dealing with the Undertaker and hearing the whispers of the dead certainly had a dampening effect on his lust. Now all was quiet in his head, and he was alone in his thoughts. The clarity and relief made it much easier to focus on the moment and give Ronald his full attention.

He demonstrated this by opting to go down on the blond, rather than pin him down bodily again. He climbed onto the bed with him and he positioned himself so that his mouth hovered over Ronald's swollen endowments. Looking up the length of his lover's prone body, he locked eyes with him and he licked the underside of Ronald's length from root to tip, slowly.

Ronald bit his lip, a low groan of pleasure sounding from his throat as his eyes hooded, but stayed locked on gaze with William. His body shifted and hips rolled ever so slightly to elongate the sensation. William was so chock full of surprises once one broke down his walls of ice. Even knowing this, he hadn't expected the man would ever go down on him.

The blond reached down, slipping his hand into Will's dark, silky locks of hair encouragingly.

Pleased with the responses he was getting, William parted his lips and he slid them down over the tip of Ronald's arousal, taking his time with it to prolong the sensation and perhaps tease him just a bit. His short manicured nails dug lightly into Ronald's hips, silently warning him to be still. He drew back, licked the salty tip and then took it into his mouth again...deeper this time. That delightful blush in Ronald's cheeks made him want to start sucking him off hard, but he delayed his urges in favor of making the blond beg for more.

"G-Great Styx, Will!" Ronald moaned, his thighs twitching with the urge to buck up into William's mouth. But he behaved, his hips still under the warning of nails. His grip on hair tightened and he closed his eyes, letting out a moan.

William began to pick up the rhythm, bobbing his head up and down faster while increasing the suction on the sensitive shaft. He steadily increased the intensity of his oral pleasuring, building it up until Ronald couldn't seem to help but squirm. He felt the blond trembling and he released his left hip to cup his balls, gently squeezing them just enough to make them tingle. He felt them tightening up in his palm and he knew it wouldn't be long before he got a full load of "Knoxwurst", as Ron affectionately referred to his own genitals. The thought made William start to grin, even as he strove to provoke more of those enchanting moans from his companion.

"W-Will-You're making me-gonna-!"

Ronald cried out, unable to stop himself from bucking up, lifting his backside from the bed as he came, practically seeing stars behind closed eyelids. He gasped, twitching as his body unloaded into William's mouth, unable to relax again until it was done.

And then he felt guilty. It hadn't been much of a warning at all, and maybe William didn't like swallowing. He trembled and cracked open an eye to look at Will, "S-sorry..."

William finished swallowing the salty release, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Whatever for? That _was_ my goal, after all. I find the taste of you more pleasant than most. You must be in the habit of drinking things with pineapple juice in them."

He smirked and he stretched out on top of Ronald, pressing light, soothing kisses over the blond's flushed, sweating face. "Relax, little goldfinch. I took great pleasure in that."

For some reason, Ronald reminded him of the small, sociable birds. He supposed it was his outgoing nature and the yellow-gold in his hair. He stroked said hair back from Ronald's forehead as he continued raining soft kisses over his skin.

Ronald flushed deeper, "Isn't that some sort of bird?" he panted, lifting his arms and sliding them around William, returning his kisses as tiny messages of affection.

Will nodded. "Mm-hmm. One of my favorite specimens to bird-watch, whenever I can spare the time for such endeavors. I plan to do a lot of it while I'm on my break from work—" he nibbled Ronald's ear and shifted on top of him, sliding his still-swollen length against his thigh, "—Heaven only knows when I will have time to enjoy doing it again, once I resume my usual duties. I don't suppose you would be interested in such a thing?"

"I'm confused..." Ronald confessed, "Are you talking about the actual birds or me, now?"

Ronald's confusion made William confused, and he hesitated. He was on the verge of informing the young man that he was speaking of watching avians, not attractive blond reapers. He started to smirk again as he imagined himself watching Ronald with a pair of binoculars, possibly spying on him through his apartment window while the younger reaper got ready for bed or undressed for a shower.

"You've managed to place the most inappropriate thoughts in my head, Ronald Knox." William chuckled softly and shook his head. "I simply meant that your coloring and mannerisms remind me of a particular bird. The bird-watching is just as it sounds. You look for birds and observe them in the wild. The invitation still stands, even if it seems like a boring activity to you. I find it relaxing."

"I think the inappropriate option is more my thing. I'm not the kind of guy who can stay quiet and still for long. Taking tests in the academy was hell that way...I'd likely end up spooking the birds you wanna look at," Ronald admitted, sliding his hands along William's sides, "so as much as I'd love to spend time with you and share some of your interests...that one is not one of them."

"I thought as much." William reached for the lubricant in his nightstand drawer, and the scent of cherry blossoms filled the air as he opened it and squirted some into the fingers of his left hand. He set it aside and he smeared it liberally over his fingers, and as he reached down to begin preparing Ronald, he watched his face. "You seemed quite shocked when I orally pleasured you, Ronald. Was that because you did not believe I was the sort of man to do that, or was it because you simply aren't used to your partners' giving you that sort of attention?"

He eased a finger inside of Ronald as he spoke, distracting him with the question as he breached him for the first time. He was tight...nearly as tight as a virgin, and that was a bit surprising.

Ronald sucked in a breath and let it out before he could answer, "The first...option...d-didn't think you'd get...down and dirty..." he admitted, then he took a pause, "sorry if you were hoping to be my first blowjob..."

William snorted. "Certainly not, after the things you've told me. I was curious, certainly, but I'm rather pleased to hear you haven't been neglected by past lovers."

He tried not to think of the fact that at least two of those past lovers were work associates. There was no room for jealousy in this relationship—not now. Of course, telling himself such and putting it into practice were not the same things. He knew in his heart that a part of him would always look at Slingby and Sutcliff with a certain wary mistrust from now on, anytime they interacted with Ronald in an affectionate manner. He supposed it was no different from how Ronald felt about the Undertaker—save for the distinction that Will had never actually had romantic interactions with the one Ronald was jealous of.

"Well," Ronald grinned, placing his hands on the back of Will's neck, "I'll tell you what you _have_ done that is my first..." he pulled him in and locked their lips together, moaning into his mouth before he released him. "You are my first lover who I have ever waited for, whom I have fallen in love with and that has returned my feelings."

Will stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. He himself could empathize with that statement more than he could express. He gently pumped his finger inside the blond as he forced the words he never thought he'd speak to anyone save his mother past his throat. "I feel the same. I...I love you."

"I love you, toooooo..." Ronald's admission trailed off, his hips rolling to allow William a better angle, "Mmm, And not just because that feels so fucking good..."

William kissed him, breath catching at Ronald's enthusiastic and entirely too arousing vocalizations. He himself wasn't particularly fond of swearing, but somehow Ronald's vulgarity made the encounter even more sensual to him. He added another finger to the penetration and his tongue caressed Ronald's. Will internally chastised himself as he imagined fucking the blond in his office chair—a thing which he never would have fantasized about with other partners. The office was a place for work, not personal erotic pleasures. The more he thought of it though, the more he liked the idea.

William thrust harder with his fingers—not yet rough but assertive. "How you blush," he murmured huskily, watching his lover's parted, gasping lips. "I never would have imagined Ronald Knox blushing during an encounter...or is it all inspired by passion?"

"M-maybe both..." Ron panted, moaning and shifting against the soft sheets. He lifted his leg, bending it in a curl around Will's back, "Sex isn't simple flirting, it's so much more, and...I'm finally getting the man I love. I think flushed cheeks is acceptable in my situation..."

William swallowed, his lust flaring quickly with Ronald's simple act. He stared down at him and his breath quickened. He started to gently butt the head of his arousal against Ronald's inner thigh, just to the right of where his fingers were insistently thrusting. "Indeed, the flushed cheeks are more than acceptable," he purred. "I find it rather charming and...appealing."

"I'm glad...you may be seeing it a lot now that we are taking this step in our relationship." Ronald whispered, reaching up and touching Will's cheek, "And I can get used to this view of you, too."

Will turned his head and he kissed Ronald's palm. "There are many other views of me I've yet to show you, Ronald. They are buried deep, however. For whatever reason, you've managed to bring parts of me to the surface that I thought long buried."

Realizing how effusive he sounded, William decided to stop waxing poetic and he kissed Ronald again. Close...Ron was so close to being ready for him. Practicing self-restraint was becoming quite the challenge for him.

"Well, you know," Ronald panted, his body increasing in heat with his passion. So close... soon William would be entering him for the first time. It was almost so surreal. "Journeys end in lover's meeting...or whatever it is." He tried to impress William with quoting Shakespeare. He had never seen the plays, but he had picked it up from Grell who was on-again-off-again obsessed with the playwright. He just hoped it meant what he thought it did.

"Mmm, very good," approved William with a small, crooked smile. "And we'll soon be 'meeting', I'd wager."

In fact, he felt that Ronald was quite ready for him now. He wedged the tip of his cock against the area his fingers were just retracting from, and no sooner did he withdraw them, he immediately replaced them with the thicker girth of his sex.

"Oh!" Ronald squeaked, his eye wide. No one had ever done that before. He'd always had a few seconds between prepping and insertion so that his partner could line himself up. It wasn't something he ever thought of until now when he didn't receive those few seconds to mentally prepare himself for what was about to come. Not that he was complaining. It felt wonderful.

"Th-that...you just discovered a rare first for me." he gasped, gripping William's shoulders, "Rhea, that was...nice."

"It certainly was...and _is_ ," agreed William with a sigh, easing deeper into him until he was encased completely within his companion. "Ah, Ronald...this is even more than I expected."

He bowed his head to the blond's and he rested his forehead against Ronald's for a moment, savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed within him. It was practically a spiritual experience, and all of the hurt, fear and horror of the war began to fade away. Now there was only Ronald... _his_ Ronald. Tonight, that was all that existed for him.

"This feeling...dear, sweet death...it's everything I've ever dreamed of but never had before."

He gasped it without thought, no longer censored by the chains of his conservative nature. There was simply no way to armor himself against this reaper...not while caught in his tight embrace, so intimately joined.

"You're even better than my wildest naughty dreams about banging my boss..." Ronald moaned, gazing lovingly up at William with a gentle smile upon his lips. He clasped his arms around the older reaper's shoulders, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, "Sorry about the cussing but Hades fucking damn, this feels...divine."

William began to move, locking his gaze once more with Ronald's. "Apt description," he gasped, plunging in slowly until he was completely encased, and then retracting to the tip. "I now know...what I was missing by withholding. Bloody hells, Ronald..."

He started to pump helplessly then, caught up in the moment and the pleasure. He grabbed hold of Ronald's hands with his and he pinned them to either side of the younger reaper's head, fingers curling tightly against Ron's. An almost pained sound arose in his throat and he silently imagined his companion's lovemaking to be a salve for his own troubled issues.

"Hahh...oh, sweet death save me," panted William as he finally broke, letting himself go entirely.

"No-no keep going! No saving!" Ronald cried out, his body rocking against the mattress with the thrusts, his hair on the back of his head undoubtedly becoming matted with the friction against the pillows. His arms were pinned, but he could still wrap his legs around Will's hips, using them to help guide the man's thrusting.

William was drowning...caught up in a sea of bliss he'd never before experienced. Again and again he drove his aching, swollen flesh into Ronald, harder and harder. He wasn't striving to hurt him; he was simply overcome with his lust. He made sounds he'd never made with a lover before, and his heart pounded ferociously in his chest. William bowed his head and groaned Ronald's name, fighting against the climax that was fast approaching.

He didn't want it to end so soon, and so he slowed and stopped his thrusts, holding still within Ronald as he caught his breath and tried to calm himself. He held the blond's hands tighter when Ronald gasped a protest and he pressed soft kisses to his flushed face.

"Calmly," Will husked, breath catching when his lover squirmed and forced movement. "I want it to last, Ronald. Shh."

Ronald pouted, "Slow-doesn't mean stop!" He twitched his hips to try and take William in and create movement again, "Please, Will! You can't just freeze up half way through driving me crazy!"

"Good things come to those who wait," William insisted between kisses. He withdrew slowly, and then eased back in. At the same time, his lips covered Ronald's and his tongue eased in just as slowly, imitating the gliding thrust of his length. "Mmm."

He was starting to calm down enough to resume, but he decided to tease a bit, first. William rotated his hips, massaging his lover inside while his tongue circled and curled around Ronald's. It was sweet torture, but it was worth it to William. He withdrew again and he was about to thrust, when he felt a chill in the room. Suddenly, there was the very distinctive feel of the sole and heel of a boot shoving him in the rump. William blurted a startled oath as the unexpected kick rammed him deep into Ronald.

Ronald cried out, his eyes crossing from the force William had thrust into him—another first. His glasses also were knocked loose and slid over his head and onto the pillow, the earpieces still caught in his hair.

"Holy damned fuck!" he trembled, needing a moment to recover from such a move. "Will—that was..." he gasped, shaking his head and opened his eyes to look up at William, trailing off when he spotted a tall dark figure looming over them. "Will!" he squeaked out, not knowing who the blurry figure was in the darkening room.

"What in bloody _hell_ ," gasped William, releasing his partner's hands and twisting a bit to look over his shoulder. He started to summon his death scythe, but then he recognized the flow of silver hair spilling out from under the familiar black top-hat. The liripipe crowning the hat trailed over the black-robed left shoulder, and the white-toothed grin in the pale, scarred face left no doubt of whom the intruder was.

"Undertaker, what in blazes are you doing in my home?"

"Evening, chap," greeted the mortician with a tip of his hat. He seemed to notice Ronald for the first time and by the fluttering motion of his bangs, he must have blinked in surprise. "Oh my...seems I've interrupted something."

"Bloody right, you have," snapped William as he grabbed the covers and yanked them over himself and Ronald. "What did you _think_ you were interrupting?"

The Undertaker shrugged. "I don't have the benefit of glasses t' help my poor ol' eyes see straight, lad. I reckoned you were doing pushups in bed, or some such thing."

"Why in Hades would I be doing—oh, never mind." William glanced down at Ronald, flushing. "Please remove yourself from this bedroom, Undertaker. We can discuss your blatant trespass after the two of us get decent."

A portal formed behind the Undertaker, and William groaned when he caught a whiff of a familiar perfume. "Oh, bother..."

"When did this become a peep show?!" Ronald gasped, hiding his face in one of William's pillows just as a heeled shoe stepped from the portal followed by a lot of red.

"That was mean, Will! Leaving Alex and I in Germany like that!" Grell's shrill voice huffed before he fell silent, "...What are you...why is _he_... what is going on here?!" He pointed at Undertaker, not even seeing his own junior pinned beneath William, "He's a wanted man, and you have him in your room being a dominatrix on you? Darling, if that's what you want, you only need to ask me!"

The Undertaker spun on the redhead, his grin returning full-swing. "Well hellooo there, Miss Sutcliff! I'm quite pleased to see you back on your feet in your cute li'l red boots. Recovered nicely, did you?"

"Dear gods, could everyone just _leave_ the room?" William felt the vein in his forehead throbbing and he was just about on the urge of jumping off Ronald and reaping both Grell and his former mentor.

"Shush, chap," countered the mortician. "The lady and I are having a conversation. Now, as I was saying, Grell...did you know that your superior there—" He pointed at William, "—is under the impression you _aren't_ a lady after all? Rubbish, I say."

"Bloody Hell! Have the conversation out in the fancy-ass sitting room Will has! Nice comfortable places for you to sit, too!" Ron said, throwing off the pillow from his face and sitting up enough to look over Will's shoulder. "You both are very much interrupting something and the rude ones are you!"

Grell blinked at the sudden appearance of the young flirty blond. "Ronnie? How come I wasn't invited to this gangbang party?! Will!"

William suddenly started to consider reaping _himself_ , if only to escape the awkwardness of the moment. "This is nobody's business save ours. Now—as I requested before—the both of you please egress from this room immediately...and do refrain from fighting in my apartment. If you break anything I shall take it out on your hides!"

Undertaker chuckled. "Aren't you a grouchy one, eh? Well then, let's leave the lovebirds to it, yeah?" He turned to Grell. "I'm still a bit confused, and it'd be nice to sort out a few things while we're here."

He was clearly more interested in Grell's sudden appearance than the compromising position they'd walked in on.

"I don't want to be alone with you!" Grell slapped Undertaker's hand—which had moved around his waist to help guide him out, "Every time I see you, you harm my face!"

"Are you deaf? Out!" Ronald lost his temper and grabbed the bottle of lube, throwing it at the two long-haired reapers, his aim seeing it hit Grell's hip and successfully gaining the redhead's attention.

"Fine, fine! But you have to tell me how you got Will into bed with you!" he huffed, twirling around and walking out the door, his hair swaying behind him.

The Undertaker paused to bend over and catch up the tossed bottle. He tossed it back at the irate couple with a grin. "Might find this more useful in the bed," he suggested, and then he followed Grell out through the door.

William exhaled with a heavy sigh, bowing his head over Ronald's shoulder. "Honestly...I have never been exposed to such deep disrespect before. It seems to be coming out of the woodwork."

Regretfully, he eased out of Ronald, his erection softening thanks to the intrusion. "I do apologize if I caused you any pain when that lunatic struck me with his boot, Ronald."

"I'll sure be feeling that one tomorrow... or maybe all week. But I can't fault you for it." Ronald groaned, rubbing his sore and sticky backside. "Hey...got like, a rag or something maybe a bathroom attached to the bedroom? I don't wanna get sex goop all over my only pair of slacks I have here-or boxers..." he sighed, sitting up and stretching his back, muscles flexing in the dim light before he located his glasses and pushed them back into place.

William stared at him with a regretful little sigh. How cruel, that their first time together had to be interrupted by a grinning madman and a crimson pervert. "After we have seen to this matter," he promised softly, "I intend to finish what you and I began, Ronald."

"So...you want me to walk out there in the buff?" Ronald asked, "I mean, _I_ have nothing against showing off what I have, but I'd think that you'd like to keep my sexy bits to yourself."

"Absolutely not," muttered William. He got up and he went to the dresser to procure a pair of handkerchiefs. Tossing one of them to Ronald, he wiped his groin off and he retrieved his pants. "This really is not the way I intended our first time to turn out."

William wasn't generally the most imaginative of reapers, but he'd certainly painted a different picture in his mind for when he and Ronald finally consummated their relationship. It was frankly humiliating.

"You and me, both!" Ron signed, twisting his torso and lifting one leg up onto the edge of the bed so he could quickly clean himself up, "I had planned so much more thrusting and panting and kissing and screams of each other's names... never would I have dreamed that it'd be cut short by a wanted reaper who swears he never wants to be in this realm again, and Senpai."

Will flushed again at Ronald's description. "Once we have settled this matter, I fully intend to return to where we left off."

That said, he threw on his shirt and exited the room whilst buttoning the garment up.

* * *

-To be continued


	19. Chapter 19

"Well then, shall we discuss what you are both doing here, invading my privacy?" William sat down across from Grell and the Undertaker, and he couldn't help but notice the way his former mentor seemed to pay so much attention to Sutcliff. He frowned, narrowing his eyes at the man. Did he have...a crush? On _Grell_ , of all people?

Grell huffed, making a show of ignoring the silver reaper who kept trying to gain his attention. It was a flattering attempt, but Grell Sutcliff wasn't one to easily forgive and forget once he grew bitter over something. And Undertaker had done plenty to earn his cold shoulder.

With his nose in the air and his face turned away from the grinning minx, the redhead flipped his long hair over his shoulder, successfully having the long red strands smack the silver reaper in the face just as Ronald entered, still buttoning his pants, though he had stayed topless.

Grell waited for the blond to take his seat next to William before starting, "I think you have some talking to do first, Will!" he pointed at the two lovers.

"Actually I don't feel I need to explain anything," announced Will pleasantly. "The two of you, however, have a bit of explaining to do. What on earth made either of you think it was acceptable to appear in my bedroom?"

"Ah, about that..." Undertaker stroked his pale chin with his long black nails. "Sorry for the timing, chap. I came to ask why in bloody hells you'd give information concerning my personal habits to Dispatch."

The mortician glanced at the crimson reaper beside him and he smiled. "Not that I mind being tracked down by certain ladies, understand."

"I'm not on the case! I'm still stationed in Germany and happen to be spending one of my precious two days off hunting down Will!" Grell turned on William again. "Why on _earth_ would you leave and Take Ronnie home, but leave Alex and I stuck in those camps?! And Ronnie, how did you get that?!" he nodded back to the bedroom, "I've been trying to get Will into bed for decades!"

"Yeah, yeah, Will and every other hot guy you run into. I know. I've been your junior for long enough to know that." Ron signed, leaning back against the armrest as he turned side-ways in the seat, "You may as well find out now... You will eventually. Will and I were trying to have first sex after waiting through this whole bloody war to do so, when you two interrupted!"

Grell blinked, "You have been waiting to have sex? Why? Just do it like you do with everyone else."

"Perhaps because it was more than just sex to the both of us," William pointed out coolly. He didn't bother explaining to Grell that the experiences of war had brought them closer together. Considering how much disdain the redhead originally had for the young reaper he'd been partnered with and his apparent change of heart, he imagined he already had an understanding of it. "And I did not 'abandon' the two of you. We were assigned to different missions and I could hardly hover over the two of you and babysit you."

He tried not to think of Grell having relations with Ronald. He had no desire to picture that. He turned to the Undertaker. "Now then, what was that kick about? Bad enough that you broke into my apartment, but that was uncalled for."

"The kick was for sending agents to my old shop to wait for me," informed the mortician. "There I was, about to collect a few things I'd left behind and lo and behold, the place was infested with Dispatch. I think one intrusion deserves another, don't you?"

Will frowned. "I had nothing to do with that. It was more than likely that one of the board members put out the order to have your shop monitored, in case you happened to return. I have no control over what my superiors do, but your decision to come here and confront me about it has now put me in a very difficult position. You do realize I am obligated to report your presence here, don't you? I would rather not have a physical confrontation sir, but I do have my duty."

"Duty, schmooty." The Undertaker waved a hand dismissively. "If your morals were so fine, you'd not have gone back on our deal."

"He didn't." Ronald said, "I was the one that sent the text to summon back-up. You can even check my phone records for it," Ron said truthfully, though he left out that the action had been prompted. "I never actually promised you I wouldn't report you. I just delayed it until we had the thing we were tracking down because Will said we could use your help. Sorry-nothing personal this time, I swear. Besides, you got away just fine."

Undertaker looked at William, and his eyes twinkled slyly. He started to open his mouth to remark on how fortuitous it was that his old apprentice happened to break the lich's soul vial just in time to open up an opportunity for him to escape. A glance at Grell changed his mind. He felt confident that Knox wouldn't rat Will out to their superiors if he suggested he'd done it on purpose to sabotage the attempted capture. Sutcliff, however, he wasn't so sure about.

"Oh, speaking of you," he said to the crimson reaper, "I'm still a bit confused about the 'lady' debate." He looked Grell over suspiciously, still having a hard time believing it despite the flatness of the redhead's chest.

"You mentioned that before." Grell crossed his arms, finally looking at Undertaker, "And I most certainly am a lady, something William has never acknowledged. It's nothing new. But Ronnie-dear treats me as such, half the time. At least he's a little more open about it!" He stood up and walked over, bending over to look at Ronald in the eye, then William, then back to Ronald. "Now I know you better than you think. I know you never sleep with someone you have real feelings for, and I know you have secretly had your eye on William...so the real question is..." he turned to William, "Do _you_ have real feelings for Ronnie?"

"Really, you just answered your own question, Grell," Ron sighed.

"I want to hear him say it himself!" Grell insisted.

Will clenched his jaw. By rights, he had no obligation to give into Grell's demands...but Ronald was looking at him too, and he didn't want their evening spoiled any further than it already had been. "Yes," he said, eyes flashing with annoyance. "I have feelings for Ronald. You know that I would not be dating him exclusively if it were otherwise."

"Well, there you go," said the Undertaker with a nod of satisfaction. "Willy and Ronnie sitting in a tree, and all that. No need to interrogate them over it."

The mortician gave Sutcliff another look-over. "Pity, but now that we've cleared up who's at fault for what, I should be on my way. I wouldn't want Willy t' feel put on the spot. Go right ahead and phone Dispatch, lad. I can let myself out."

William summoned his death scythe and he shook his head, finished with suffering uncertainty and mixed feelings. "I am afraid I cannot let you do that, sir. You knew our agreement was a one-time thing, and by coming here you've forced my hand. You are outnumbered and even if you manage to vanquish all three of us, you aren't likely to do so before more agents arrive to secure you."

Undertaker drew his own scythe and he whistled a warning and shook his head when he noticed Grell making a move for his. Holding the scythe out threateningly at the redhead, he glanced Will's way again. "There's a wee problem with that, love. You've got to get out your phone t' do that before I spill the lady's records...and then I'll move on to your li'l blond here. You're best off sticking to my plan and waiting 'till I'm gone before you call the authorities. I'd rather not damage any of you. I rather like you all."

"The authorities have already been notified," William informed him calmly. "I put in the notification and I hit 'send' while we were discussing your intrusion earlier. Did you really think I would not do my duty to my department, Undertaker?"

The mortician frowned at him. "I think you're bluffing."

"Then commence with the fight and discover the truth for yourself," suggested Will...and then he spun his scythe and lunged for the mortician.

Undertaker jumped back, forced to take his scythe off Grell to block the attack. "Oh Willy...I'm disappointed," he sighed. He twisted and he retaliated, putting William back on the defensive. His grin never faded even as portals began to form in the younger reaper's parlor, proving William had not bluffed at all.

William had made a miscalculation, though. He'd forgotten how quickly the Undertaker could conjure his own dark portals. The mortician refreshed his memory of that fact while he had enough range between them to do so, and Will shouted a warning as the twisting, dark portal took form and some of his fellow Dispatch officers stepped into the room.

"Don't touch it," shouted William, recalling all too clearly what had happened to him the last time he'd tried to follow his old mentor through one of them. The anomaly was between him and the Undertaker, so he couldn't get to the man without skirting around it.

Chuckling, the Undertaker started to take the opportunity to jump through his portal and vanish, but a glance at Grell put a different idea in his head. Impulsive as usual, he decided to clear up his confusion in his own way. In a flash, he was at Grell's side and he cupped the redhead between the legs swiftly.

"Well, what do you know?" He jumped away hastily before Grell could react and he winked at him before leaping through his portal.

"Hey!" Grell snapped, even as the Undertaker disappeared, "Threaten me, fine, but no gentleman touches a lady without her consent! I'm going to reap you next time I see you!"

"He's gone, Grell." Ronald said, having jumped to his feet, his own scythe in hand; the one he'd been using in Germany for so long. "And if you go after him you'll get put in the hospital. Trust William's hand on that. He touched one."

Eric was too shocked by what he'd just seen to even consider attempting to go through that portal. "Did...did he jus' _grope_ Sutcliff?"

"Fortunately, I could not see around the portal to confirm your question," sighed William. He compressed his lips in irritation, having more important things to worry about than whether his old mentor inappropriately touched his associate or not. He glared at the shifting, crackling portal and he grabbed the arm of one of his fellow agents when the man started to move toward it, having arrived too late to hear his warning.

"I would not, Agent Kennedy," he explained when the strawberry blond reaper looked at him quizzically. "The last time I came into contact with one of the Undertaker's portals, it flayed the skin from my hand up to my elbow. Had I gone through it, I would have come through the other side in pieces, no doubt."

"What shall we do, sir?" questioned another man.

William shook his head and dragged his fingers through his mussed, dark hair. "All that we can do is report that the fugitive escaped again. I fear our only real chance of capturing that man is through subterfuge."

"I'm going to cut that hand from his dainty little wrists!" Grell was ranting, no longer paying attention to anything else.

"Senpai! Calm down." Ronald said, grabbing Grell's shoulders to stop the pacing he'd started. "You can deal with the old degenerate later."

Grell huffed, crossing his arms again and tapping his foot before deciding he still wanted something.

"I still want to hear you say it yourself, Will." He didn't care if others were in the room. he wanted to hear William say he loved Ronald, and he wasn't going to give in until he heard those words leave the man's lips.

"Grell Sutcliff, now is not the time for your blasted dramatics," snapped William impatiently. "I have had my bloody privacy invaded quite enough today, thank you! Now go...get out of my apartment and leave us in peace."

Eric grimaced, and he wondered if Sutcliff had any sense of self-preservation at all. He had no idea what it was he was trying to pressure Will into saying, having arrived after the conversation, but he knew that look in their boss's eyes. William wasn't likely to say anything in mixed company that he wasn't damned good and ready to say. "Better listen tae him, Grell."

"Nah-ah!" Grell shook his head and put his foot down, his heel clicking loud against the wood floors, "I'm not leaving until I know for sure that my cute little Junior isn't going to get hurt!"

At the very end of his patience, William stepped around the Undertaker's diminishing portal and he grabbed Grell by his striped bowtie, all but dragging him into the hallway with him. He shoved him against the wall and he glared into his eyes.

"Perhaps you can ask him yourself later. I shan't be put on the spot yet again with your foolishness. Leave now or I will forcibly expel you."

"You'll make Ronnie Jealous by getting rough with me, darling, and I'm putting you on the spot because you won't answer yes or no. Do you love him back?" Grell pressed his luck again, growing annoyed that such a simple thing was being fought. It was starting to make him think that Ronald was being used...and as much as he adored William, the thought angered him.

"I'm not asking so I can be mad at you! I'm asking so I don't _have_ to be mad at you! Ronnie's like a kid brother to me, okay? And believe it or not, I got over you a long time ago. So spill before I jump to conclusions and gut you. Answer me! Do you love Ronnie?!"

William was sorely tempted to punch Grell at that point. He shoved him against the wall again and his lip curled with anger, and he held the crimson reaper against the wall with one hand while forming a portal with the other. "I've had quite enough of this. I have endured more than my share of harassment throughout all of this and you have the _gall_ to come into my home uninvited and make demands of me? My feelings and my relationship are private. Enough."

William grabbed Grell by the collar of his jacket and he started bodily dragging him to the portal he'd created.

"Don't be a stubborn ass!" Grell growled, kicking his foot out to trip William up and send them to the floor. He took the opportunity to roll them and straddle William, pinning him down. "I'm not asking you how it happened or why! I'm worried! Ronnie can get really badly hurt by this, and you aren't exactly a fluffy teddy bear like Eric! Put your damnable pride aside for once and just answer yes or no; for Ronnie's sake!"

William surprised himself by growling like an animal. "This is not for Ronald's sake, but for your own love of gossip!" He then did a move that he never would have imagined himself doing before: he head-butted Grell and then he flipped him over onto his back. Beyond incensed, William summoned his scythe again and all he could think of was how many times this red lunatic had been a thorn in his side...and then the world around him seemed to change, and rather than Grell, he saw an SS officer beneath him, hands stained with the blood of the innocents he'd just slaughtered like animals in the gas chambers.

"Will! Stop!"

William didn't recognize Eric's voice. He started to drive the point of his scythe into Grell's throat, only to be tackled by a heavy body. His breath exploded from his lungs and his scythe went spinning across the floor. He snarled, caught up in the delusion and seeing only an enemy attempting to overcome him.

"Jaysus," cried Eric as he struggled to keep his infuriated boss pinned. The only thing he had going for him right now was his greater size. William was of a height with him and he certainly was no weakling. "Grell, get tha fook outta here! Ya set him off! Someone go get a reaper medic an' bring 'em back here!"

Grell blinked, watching as Eric held down their boss. "...He...just tried to kill me. Actually tried to _kill_ me," he said, his anger that his simple and sincere question of concern had been ignored fading into shock.

William had threatened him before, he'd smacked him around and yelled...but he'd never grown serious about _killing_ him.

The redhead stood there dumbly as another agent ran past him to follow Eric's orders.

Ronald was wide-eyed and in shocked throughout the whole thing. Sure, Grell would take the gossip and run with it, but Ron also had no doubt that his senior had only wanted confirmation from William. There was no reason for all that just happened. It left Ronald tongue-tied.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he finally moved forward, touching Grell's shoulder, "Grell, please go. We'll talk later." He stated it in a low tone that didn't hide his shock. When the redhead nodded and turned to leave, Ron then approached William and Eric, slowly.

"Will..?" he knelt down at Will's head, looking down at him and cupping his ears. maybe it was the voices driving him to do this, though he knew covering his ears wouldn't help, "Will, look at me."

 _That_ voice, William recognized. In a fog of confusion, he looked up at Ronald and slowly, the realization of what he'd nearly done came to him. With that realization came a sort of horror, followed by an icy calm. "Ronald," he murmured.

Seeing the change in him and feeling his lessened resistance, Eric eased up on his hold of him. "Will? Are ya back?" Like most other agents, he'd been trained to deal with trauma issues that might occur due to accidental contact with records or war experiences. He could see William coming back to himself, and he sighed in relief.

William sat up with Eric's help, and he looked around at the audience. He felt a sincere influx of mortification for his actions and he looked at Eric uncertainly. "Sutcliff. Where is he?"

"He left," Eric assured him. "It's a'right, boss."

William stared up at him, and then his eyes flicked to Ronald. How could a romantic night have possibly gone so wrong? He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "Slingby."

"Aye?" Eric looked at him warily, ready to restrain him again if necessary.

"I think perhaps you'd be best off taking me into custody now."

"Wh-what?" Ronald choked out, "But, Will-!"

But...what? Even he couldn't deny that Will had just had a major breakdown, and he'd nearly killed someone during it. There was no way he could get away without being taken in and have doctors assess his mental state. But that didn't make the reality any easier for the smitten young blond. He didn't even realize that he'd started tearing up as he grabbed William's hand.

"Give us a moment," Will instructed softly to Eric. "Please."

Eric sighed and he nodded, standing up and patting Ronald gently on the back before retreating into the other room. Once they were alone, William opened his eyes and he looked at Ronald. "I think that we both knew this might come, Ronald. I had hopes to stave it off, but my actions tonight have proven that I am no longer fit to maintain my position."

Will bowed his head and he sighed. "I'm terribly sorry. I would like to say that I can cope, but you saw that. For the good of the organization, I think it's best that I seek treatment. If I go on like this, it could come to you being in my position with the Undertaker. I'd never wish that upon you."

Ronald shook his head. "But I'm not you, you aren't him, and our relationship isn't the same as what you had with him-or have. I'm here for you, Will," Ron pleaded, "We can get through this just as we got through every other shitty thing that has happened to us..."

"Ronald, listen to me." William reached out to comb aside the younger reaper's bangs in an unusually affectionate gesture. "I am a danger to myself and those around me. I see that now. For whatever reason, you've made it through this without losing yourself and for that, I'm grateful. I, however...after tonight, I cannot trust myself. Sutcliff has always pushed my buttons, but this time...this time I truly wanted to end him. I'm no longer fit to lead our department."

He sighed and he lowered his eyes. "If I could spare you or our associates of this burden I would, but I am afraid I must take an unscheduled vacation from it and seek evaluation. It really is for the best."

William raised his eyes and he gazed into Ronald's. Seeing a tear spill over, he wiped it away with his thumb. "I hope that you'll visit me whenever you can, Ronald. In the meantime, I shall say to you what Grell so vehemently demanded I confirm to him. I do love you."

Ron leaned forward, pulling William into a hug and hiding his face in his shoulder. "I wanted to save you from having to... I wanted us to go out on lots of dates and forget about the mortal side of our being in Germany. Undertaker—he said I'm the best thing for you..."

William smirked and he stroked Ronald's hair. "He was correct about that. I feel if it weren't for you, I'd have gone much deeper into this malady than I already have. I...would like for it to be so simple, Ronald. I had hoped it could be, but tonight has shown me the beast I could become if I continue the way I am. Perhaps with time..."

He sighed and frowned, hating himself inside. He'd always thought of himself as so secure...so stoic. Perhaps it was all just a fool's dream.

Ronald tightened his hold on William, "I still don't like this... We only just got back home and... and we can't even have one full date without something happening."

"I do apologize for that." William lowered his head over Ronald's and he rubbed his back. "This wasn't what I desired for us at all. Selfish though it may be of me, however, I ask that you wait for me." He withdrew one hand from Ronald's back and he slipped it beneath the blond's chin, urging him to tilt his head to meet his eyes. "Wait for me, Ronald. I'd never ask this of anyone else."

Ronald nodded and let out a sigh, one hand sliding up to touch Will's cheek, "I'll visit you if they let me...I know they don't for some cases...and that's what's so terrifying about you doing this...I don't care if you are still at work or not, I just want to see you and spend time with you. It'll be awfully lonely..."

But he'd waited this long already. The only difference being he didn't have the heart for casual dates anymore. He only wanted dates with William.

"I am sure arrangements can be made," William tried to reassure him. "After all, I did not simply randomly snap. It was triggered by someone's aggressive needling and I have never attacked you. They will likely monitor me for a week and once they are satisfied that I would pose no danger to those I will put on my visitor list, they will begin allowing it."

William himself had some small experience with this already—not as a patient, but as an office manager deciding which released patients were acceptable candidates to return to work in his division. Sometimes reaper agents just needed counseling for a while after experiencing trauma in the field. He dearly hoped he was one of them, and that one day he could resume his duties and return to a normal lifestyle. Well, normal for _him_. Fortunately he had enough in savings to pay the bills for a year or more, so he shouldn't have to worry about losing his apartment or his car.

That line of thought reminded him that while he was in the custody of the institution, he would need to declare an executer and grant them access to his finances and accounts. He could think of no other reaper he would dare trust than Ronald, and he smirked at that thought. A year ago he wouldn't have trusted Ronald to feed his dog—if he had one. Now he was the only person he felt he could trust implicitly.

"Ronald, I am going to request something of you that may be rather heavy on responsibility, but I would not ask it of you if I had another trustworthy option." He sighed and lowered his gaze in thought. "While I am in there, my bills will still require paying. Ordinarily this would fall upon family members or legal professionals, but I have no family save my father now, and you know we are estranged. I've also seen how crooked professional executers can be, so I ask you to accept the position. I shall arrange for you to have access to my financial accounts, and your name will be put on my lease agreement, car insurance and utilities. I will need you to pay my bills for me and drive my car once in a while to keep it running well. You can stay here in my apartment as often as you wish, but if not, I would appreciate it if you would clean out the refrigerator so that nothing gets spoiled. Take everything in it home with you if you must."

William paused and he looked into Ronald's devastated eyes, completely empathizing with the pain he saw in them. He caressed Ronald's face, wishing there were some other way. "Will you do this for me, Ronald?"

Ronald took a deep breath and tried to give him an encouraging smile. "You can count on me." He almost joked that even he wouldn't trust himself with something like that, but he just wasn't feeling it at the moment. He swallowed and hugged William again. "I'll likely stay here...I have my own bills memorized for when to pay them...I'd need the mail reminder for yours. Plus you actually have a bed..."

~ _Which smells like you._ ~

"But you'll owe me for it...You have to promise me you'll listen to them shrinks and do everything you can to get better and return home." He paused. "Even if they don't let me visit, I'll write you. I'm really lame at writing letters, but..."

"I would like that," William assured him, "no matter how 'lame' you think your letters are."

Eric poked his head in. "Boss...they're on their way. Wha' can we do tae help?"

William sighed and he looked around. "I imagine I won't need much in the way of clothing, considering I shall have to wear the clothing issued to me that will identify me as a patient. I should like to bring some books and whatever toiletries are permitted, but I can pack those on my own easily enough. Thank you, officer Slingby."

* * *

A short while later, William was escorted into the mental facility in reaper London. They allowed Ronald and Eric to accompany him until he was taken through the secured door leading into the resident area, and Eric rubbed Ronald's shoulder comfortingly as they watched him go.

"He's strong," Eric assured his companion. "This won't get him down fer long, Ronnie. Are ya going tae be a'right? I called Alan an' he's comin' o'er tae my place tae watch a film wi' me. Yer welcome tae join us, if ya dun' want tae be alone."

Gods knew they'd have a ton of paperwork to go through tomorrow. William had insisted on informing the board himself of his decision to commit himself for treatment, but Eric and Alan would have to take care of all the paperwork. Will already had a lawyer and he'd contacted him as well to draw up the paperwork naming Ronald as his executer, so at least that part would be taken care of.

Ron nodded, "Sorry... this just-sucks so bad." The usually lively blond was strangely pensive and down. "The whole war was rough on him from the start...I could see this coming, even at the beginning when he started becoming distracted and making rookie mistakes...but I never thought it'd get to this point." He leaned against the door blocking him from William, looking through the thin window that showed him only an empty white hall as William and his escorts had turned the corner.

"I can only imagine tha things ya both saw o'er there," sighed Eric. "Funny, I'd have thought Will would be tha last one tae crack under fire, but then he's wound up sae tight, I s'pose all tha' stoicism had tae break sooner or later."

He put a friendly arm around Ron's shoulders and he nodded toward the exit. "Let's get outta here. This place is depressing."

He winced as he said it, recalling that William was going to be stuck in this "depressing" place for who knew how long. "I meant it's jus' gonna drag ya down hanging around here. We'll pick something funny out tae watch on the tube t'night...no war movies or dramas."

Again, the younger blond nodded and allowed Eric to lead him away and out of the building. "Sorry for crashing your date with Alan."

Eric shrugged. "It wasnae a formal date...jus' a quiet night at home tae try an' relax a little before all tha work piles up tomorrow. Alan won't mind ya comin', I'm sure. He knows you're head o'er heels fer William an' I'm head o'er heels fer him. No' Will...I mean Alan. I'll jus' call an' let him know."

Perhaps under different circumstances, it might have been awkward, but Alan had expressed sympathy over the phone. Still, he thought it prudent to clear it with him first. He dug out his phone and rang his partner as he and Ronald walked through the parking lot to their vehicles.

"Al, it's me. We're jus' leaving tha institution now after dropping Will off. Thought I should let ya know we'll be havin' company t'night, if tha's a'right wi' ya."

"Yes, of course," Alan's voice answered. "How's he holding up?" He couldn't imagine what it was like for Ronald to see his boyfriend taken into the institution. If it had been Eric instead of William...he honestly didn't know what'd he do, but he was sure that being left alone would not be the best thing for him. Eric was the boy's best friend, and he needed his friends.

Eric glanced sidelong at Ronald. "A little numb, I think. Kind o' shocked. Otherwise he seems a'right. If ya get tae mah apartment before we do, would ya do me a favor an' get tha scotch out o' tha liquor cabinet an' set out some glasses? I've go' a feeling this could be a night fer some drinks."

Alan sighed, "Alright, but not too much, for either of you. Ronald doesn't need to drink himself sick tonight, he just needs enough to take the edge off. And I don't want to be the bad guy by stopping you guys from drinking too much."

"I'll be sure and limit it," promised Eric. "There's less than half of it left in tha' bottle so once tha's gone, we won't open ano'er or get any beer. See yeh in a little while, sweetheart."

Eric hung up and he stopped at his car, unlocking it. Ronald had come in William's classy black sedan. "Did ya want tae drop off Will's car at his place an' ride wi' me tae mine, or would yeh rather jus' follow?"

"I don't want to drive Will's car more than I have to." Ronald said, opening the door. It was an expensive car, way out of his price range, and he didn't want anything to happen to it. But it was better than his bike which he had taken to William's place. They had allowed Ron to drive Will to the institute and he wouldn't have been able to do it on the bike.

"I'll probably crash on your couch, anyway."

"Right. Meet yeh at Will's place, then. Might want tae pack a change o' clothes if yer staying o'ernight." Eric got into his car and he started it up.

* * *

The next evening, the Undertaker followed in the shadows as the object of his interest walked the streets of mortal London. Apparently Sutcliff was back from Germany for more than a day...perhaps permanently like Will and Ronald—or at least until things heated up. The mortician sighed, lightly tapping the skull-topped cane he kept as a prop for his disguise on the ground. He was dressed in a pinstripe suit he'd stolen from some rich gent's closet and he wore a dandy top-hat on his head, in lieu of his usual one with the liripipe. His hair was brushed back and tied into a long ponytail and he wore a pair of tinted glasses over his eyes.

"And where are you off to now, Miss Sutcliff?" Undertaker grinned, and he began to follow behind Grell. He kept nearly a full block's distance between them. While his disguise was fairly solid and he'd concealed his facial scar with makeup, Grell would be able to sense his reaper aura if he got too close and he'd probably figure out who he was before long.

The Undertaker was curious, though. After escaping Will's apartment, he'd arranged for some of his raven friends to keep an eye on the place, and William had been seen neither coming nor going from his residency since then. The mortician wasn't quite worried—not yet. Willy doubtlessly had time off, and after what the Undertaker had interrupted the other night, he supposed William would probably be spending a lot of his vacation snogging his blond companion.

Realizing he was getting too far behind Grell, the Undertaker sped up the pace. Fortunately, Grell's look was so distinctive that the mortician could tell him apart from other pedestrians, even without proper Shinigami eyewear. He hurried up even more when Grell turned a corner up ahead. If anyone had asked him why he was following the Dispatch agent instead of trying to sneak into Will's place to check on him, he wouldn't have been able to answer. All he knew was that he didn't want to lose sight of him.

The street that Grell turned down was a busy one, full of merchants selling their wares from little street carts and wagons. It was a popular area for Sunday afternoon shopping, as anyone could find nearly anything. Even local shops would send a cart of goods for the day.

Grell hadn't been as often as he'd have liked, but he did enjoy spending money there. Plus he had a good chunk of money burning a hole in his pocket, as he hadn't had any time to enjoy splurging on himself for a while, and that night he'd have to go back to Germany to return to the grind with his current partner.

He didn't know what Alex was doing in his last day off, and frankly, he didn't care. Right now the only thing he wanted to care about were those red lace boots on the cart next to the book cart!

Grell hurried over and snatched them up, soon bartering the price and paying for them.

The redhead continued on from cart to cart, making purchases of a few more items he just had to have before he started getting the distinct feeling that someone was...watching him...following him. What a bother. But dealt with easily enough.

Grell pretended to do a bit more 'window shopping' before he spotted a long, thin, secluded alley. He ducked into it, disappearing deep into the shadows where he watched and waited.

A figure soon appeared, confirming Grell's suspicions. It'd be easy to get away, but he wanted to know why the man was following him. However, as he grew closer, Grell could feel it; death's aura. It wasn't human, it was a reaper. Snarling, Grell moved to summon his scythe, backing up further.

Light caught a long strand of silver as the man picked up his pace, and Grell's eyes widened. It couldn't be, could it? No, it was, and it was time for revenge.

Abandoning the idea of his scythe, Grell looked around, spotting a sturdy axe wedged in wood further up the way. It was obvious it was used for chopping wood to heat a home or business, but it gave him a satisfying idea.

Setting down his shopping, he silently rushed over and grabbed the worn wooden handle, yanking it free.

Undertaker was almost running now, fearing he'd lost Sutcliff. He was so distracted that he didn't sense the redhead until he was almost right on top of his hiding place. He dropped his cane with the intention of summoning his death scythe, but as he raised his left hand in preparation to catch his reaping tool when it materialized, but he saw a flash of metal and the next thing he knew, that hand was no longer there. He felt a searing pain shoot up his arm and he looked down at his gloved hand, now lying twitching on the cobblestones. He wasn't even aware of his own cry of pain as he finished summoning his scythe. He caught it with his right hand and he pressed the bloody stump where his hand had been severed at the wrist against his side.

At first he was utterly confused, but then he saw the familiar reaper he'd been trailing step out of the shadows, holding a dripping axe of human make in one hand.

"Bloody _hell_ , that stung," hissed the mortician. He'd fought one-handed before though, after losing his pinky finger. At least this time it wasn't a scythe. He spun his own scythe defensively and he eyed Grell with new respect. "S'pose that's what I get for letting myself get distracted."

He looked down at his hand with a little sigh. He couldn't retrieve it without dropping his weapon and leaving himself open to another attack.

"No." Grell pointed the axe at Undertaker. "That's what you get for touching a Lady without her permission, fiend!"

He swiftly wedged the ax back into it's place, not bothering to clean the blood off before he stepped forward and he gracefully stole up the severed hand. "This hand touched me, I'd be inclined to say that it is mine, now. Now, why are you following me? Didn't get enough of a feel?"

Grell seemed to not care that the elder had his scythe in hand and he watched himself slip the glove off the pale hand, blood smearing over the white skin.

"But you do have a lovely scream." he giggled and spun around, licking up the length of Undertaker's dead, curled finger, following a bead of blood, and taking it into his mouth before the bead could fall. He sucked on the digit sexually, hooded eyes glinting as he watched Undertaker for his reaction.

If the Undertaker's grin was a bit tight with pain, most wouldn't have noticed. He nearly said that he had something else Grell could lick on, but his ghostly companions warned him against that.

"To answer your question, I'm curious. Haven't seen Willy come or go from his place since last night. I'm curious about how he's doing, but I couldn't very well come knocking on his door after the way he tattled on me t' Dispatch, could I?"

He shrugged, and then he grimaced as the voices of the dead got louder, distressed. "Quiet, all of you," he hissed. To Grell, he said: "Mayhap I thought you might have an answer to that...and mayhap I wanted to apologize. I'm afraid sometimes not even I know why I do some things, love."

The sparkle in Grell's eyes went out like a light, and a serious look came over his face as he lowered Undertaker's missing hand away from his lips.

"William," it was odd to hear Grell spit his name out in such a vile way, "completely snapped when I wanted to hear him confirm that he loves Ronnie, and rather than answering a simple yes or no, he took his scythe to me. He nearly killed me. And now he's gone and turned himself in for evaluation."

Grell turned, crossing his arms with a huff. "We'll see if I'll give him my blessings to date my cute little junior, now! Seriously, trying to reap me! Imagine! I wasn't even being half as annoying as I usually am to him!"

"He committed himself?" The Undertaker frowned. He knew how annoying Spears found Grell, but the man was not the sort to turn his scythe on any of his compatriots. If his control had slipped enough for that, he likely didn't even see Grell at all. "My, my...that's no good. No good at all. Here I was hoping he'd be fine once he got home, seeing as his usual line of work is a desk job and he'd not be venturing regularly into the mortal realm."

Realizing Grell had no idea of what he was talking about, the mortician looked at him again. No, Sutcliff couldn't possibly understand unless he too had experienced some of the trauma Will had and been afflicted with the voices of the dead in a similar manner. People tended to think it was all in the head when a reaper agent came home claiming he was hearing voices in the mortal realm. It had happened to others before—not just the Undertaker and William.

The Undertaker thought on it—thought on the drooling, whimpering sods he'd be in the company of, reapers like himself that had broken down eventually on the job. The difference was that under the care of people who believed it was merely an illness of the mind, they hadn't received the sort of help they truly needed in order to cope with it. Those reapers eventually sunk even deeper than the Undertaker and once they fell that far, there was no return. Not all patients under psychiatric care were there because they had become mediums, though. Some simply suffered post traumatic stress, and they usually improved in time. For the others like himself and Will, the answer wasn't just in counseling and medication. The trauma was only going to make it harder on Will.

"He might not hear them on that side," reasoned the mortician to himself, "but he is what he is now and his senses are going to keep showing him things they'll mistake for regular hallucinations."

The Undertaker himself had fought against the medics when he realized that their help wasn't actually going to help him...only hinder him. They'd thought he was just raving, though.

"What are you blabbering on about?" Grell asked, pointing Undertaker's own hand at him, "Will's cracked, and Ronnie's upset and passed out with a hangover because Eric let him drink while emotional, and you're going on about nonsense?"

He sighed and walked over, picking up his bags. "I'm going back to my way of forgetting about this mess; shopping." he said, forgetting about the hand he still held, dripping blood along the ground.

Undertaker jumped into action, swiftly blocking Grell's way with his scythe. "Now, just a moment. My hand isn't part of your merchandise. I'll have that back, thanks. In exchange, I'll cut a deal with you that even a lady like yourself might find hard to pass up."

"I'll believe it when I hear it!" Grell huffed, holding the hand away from Undertaker, "It had better be good. I told you, didn't I? The hand is mine now for having touched me!"

"Just a harmless li'l grope," excused the Undertaker. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy with blood loss, but he didn't show it. "I only did it 'cause your coworkers got me so confused. Had to check for myself. I'm sorry it offended you love, but you might think of it as a compliment. You're so pretty I can only see a lady when I look at you, regardless of bits."

He sighed. "Now as for the other part...how would you like to be the reaper that finally bagged ol' Undertaker and brought him in, eh? Give me a hand—or rather, _my_ hand—and I'll relinquish myself to your custody."

It was a gamble he was taking and he knew it. There was no guarantee he'd end up in the same facility as William if he turned himself in. They might just toss him in a high security prison and write off any attempt to cure his madness as a lost cause.

"My 'bits' aren't what define me as a lady or a gentleman." Grell pointed out, "I'm a Lady to die for, and a man to die for, depending how I feel at the time! And why would you turn yourself over like that after years of evading us?"

"Well of _course_ they aren't," agreed the mortician. "I just said that, didn't I? Anyways, it just seemed like a good idea at the time. As for why I'm making this offer, you've got my hand."

He nodded at the severed body part. "Now, I could probably wrest it from you, but then I might accidentally grope you somewhere again with the hand that's still attached. Besides, I could use a vacation from all the running and hiding...at least for a bit. I'm not obligated t' stay if I get terribly bored of it, after all. I've plenty of tricks up my sleeve."

He kept his desire to help Will to himself, only because Grell had so vehemently cursed the man earlier.

Grell narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Fine. But you get your hand back _after_ I take you in. Just to ensure that you won't take it and run. Now put that scythe away! Captured fugitive reapers don't get weapons!"

"Enjoying the power, eh?" Undertaker's smile faltered slightly as another dizzy spell struck. He would have loved to keep bantering with the redhead, but he didn't want to end the evening by falling flat on his face before he could set foot in the reaper realm. He banished his scythe as instructed and he pressed his bleeding stump tighter against his side.

"Ready when you are, Miss Sutcliff."

"Not yet." Grell sighed, and for the first time, he seemed to care about the older reaper. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, using it to help tie off the bleeding stump, "I'm not loosing these boots because you lost too much blood before I can turn you in," he explained before finally leading Undertaker through a portal he created.

* * *

William sat in one of the chairs by the window in the hallway, watching as the sun slowly rose on the horizon. He'd fallen asleep early due to the anti-anxiety medication they'd given him after dinner the day before. Evidently it made patients more manageable to dose them after the final meal of the day, which he was already finding to be an annoying practice. He was accustomed to staying up late...usually to do work. He already felt terribly unproductive, but he did feel more refreshed than usual. He accredited it to getting more than four to five hours of sleep, and he'd truly only woken up so early out of habit.

Will sighed and he glanced over at one of his fellow patients as the man began muttering to himself. He sighed, wishing he'd thought to bring ear plugs when he'd packed. He couldn't recall the fellow's name but he'd learned that the man with the shaggy, shoulder-length blond hair was a Dispatch agent from Liverpool. He'd been brought to the London facility for treatment and he virtually never shut up.

Wondering if that was to be his eventual fate too, William looked out the window again. The yellow-orange lighting up the puffy clouds underneath in the distance made him think of Ronald's hair. He wondered when he would see his lover again, and he thought of their interrupted encounter together. They hadn't even gotten to finish, thanks to the Undertaker.

As if summoned by the mere thought of the man, William heard his old mentor's familiar laugh and he froze in his seat, shocked.

"No...it can't be," he muttered. He was imagining things. Then a pair of orderlies walked by with a patient being escorted between them, and Will glanced their way. He sat up straighter in his chair, eyes widening with disbelief. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be seeing things as well. He'd already imagined one of the nurses turning into a Nazi soldier, shortly after his arrival to this place.

There was no mistaking what the orderly said when the patient they were escorting paused to wave a freshly, heavily bandaged hand at another patient that was staring at him with about the same look of disbelieving recognition as William.

"Keep moving, Undertaker," urged the orderly. "Let's get you to your cell. We'd rather not drug you but since we can't put you in a straight jacket in your condition, we'll have to if you give us any trouble."

"Just waving hullo to an admirer, is all." Undertaker hadn't noticed William yet, and his escorts started guiding him away.

"Wait," called William, getting up out of his seat. He hurried up behind the group. "Undertaker!"

"Mr. Spears, please step back," warned one of the orderlies. "This is a very dangerous prisoner. You can have introductions later if his confinement is lifted."

"Willy! You're looking well!" Undertaker tried to turn around, but his escorts would have none of it. "Ah well, it looks like I've got a date with a padded room. Mayhap I'll see you around in a few days, yeah?"

William combed his fingers through his hair, utterly bewildered. How on earth did they catch him and what happened to his hand?

"What in blazes is going _on_ here?" he whispered as his old mentor was forcibly dragged down the hall to the confinement cells where they kept the most dangerous or unstable prisoners.

* * *

-To be continued


	20. Chapter 20

Weeks passed by with William and Undertaker both being evaluated separately with no visitation rights, and neither saw the other again after the first day Undertaker was brought in.

However, Ronald did write William every week. The letters were more like notes, totally lacking in structure and direction, and it seemed the boy never really knew what to say. But still, he did end each one with a message of love and a doodle of little jokes to try and help William smile.

Ronald had returned to work, finding the job quite lonely without William standing over his shoulder like he used to. And his office being locked up was a constant reminder that William was gone.

But finally, the day came when he received word that he could visit William during visiting hours. As soon as his shift was up, he was out the door and on his bike, speeding to the institution.

It was an annoying hassle. When he got there he had to sign in, hand over his scythe and anything in his pockets, fill out a bunch of paperwork, and then, finally, he was escorted to a white room with tables. Some had games on them that patients could play, and some were empty.

He was instructed to sit at an empty table and wait. The wait was another thing that annoyed the impatient reaper. He'd already waited a month. That should have been long enough.

As he waited, he tried not to stare at the patients around him, looking down at his folded hands on the table.

He didn't like it. Everything was so cheerless and sterile, here. He didn't see how it could help anyone get better for anything they had been committed for.

Finally William came in with an orderly, and his pulse quickened when he saw Ronald there waiting for him. He regretted not having taken a photo of him to keep with him. Though it had only been three weeks since he'd last seen him and he stayed on his mind a lot, he'd forgotten just how bloody attractive he was. He'd even logged into his Dispatch profile a couple of times when granted internet access, just so that he could look up Ronald's and stare at his profile picture. He also checked in on his reports just to see how he'd been doing with collections after his week's vacation.

It had come as a relief to him to see that Ronald's numbers were as steady as ever. He even seemed to bring in a little more than before, and Will thought he ought to be due for a pay raise, soon. In fact, he intended to suggest it to the board. Despite his hospitalization, the board still allowed him full access and they still respected his opinions. In fact, his position in Dispatch had only been suspended until he was pronounced stable and released. It was more than he'd hoped for, but then again, not many agents were masochistic enough to take on the position of supervisor, and William was the best they'd ever had. In the meantime Eric and Alan were still taking on his duties until the board could find a suitable temporary replacement.

Being out of the loop as he was and unable to speak with his old mentor while the man was under such tight observation, William still didn't know the details about how the Undertaker came to be in this place. Perhaps Ronald could shed some light on it. He sat down across from Ronald and he managed a faint little smile for him as the orderly left them alone together.

"You look well," observed William, eyes scanning the younger reaper appreciatively. He knew he himself didn't look particularly dapper in the light blue shirt and pants combo he was forced to wear as a patient, but he'd taken the time to brush and style his hair when he got word that Ronald was coming to see him. He now had full visitor privileges and so long as he didn't violate any rules, they would remain intact.

Ronald snapped his gaze up, and he had the urge to jump up and pull the man into a tight embrace. But he'd been warned against any sudden movements. Some of the permanent residents of the ward were easily startled and upset, and doing so could cause problems with them. So, he stayed in his seat and nodded awkwardly.

"Yeah... And you look...healthy." And he did. It looked like he was eating right and getting proper exercise. But he didn't seem particularly happy or comfortable in such an environment, and who could blame him? The place wasn't even droll. It was just dry and void of...life.

"I don't like this place-or leaving you here," he admitted, glancing around again, "Seems to me it is designed to depress people, not encourage them to get better... Glad I brought you this. Alan suggested it would help you over here...Luckily them guards at the entrance let me keep it with me so I could give it to you myself. It's an older one, but one of my favorite shots."

He dug into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph. it was slightly wrinkled and bent, and it supported a few scratches. The photograph was black and white, which was the big thing when Ron was a student, before they had advanced to color, and it supported the grinning face of Ronald as he stood perched atop the point of a tall tower of the academy, the camera pointing down at him and the school grounds below. His hands were in the famous "death" pose, and a brand new pair of custom glasses were on his face. He and his finals partner had taken pictures like it together to celebrate the end of their school days.

"I want you to have this," he said, sliding it over, "at least then this place isn't as depressing. I have everything in your apartment to remind me of you, but Alan pointed out you don't have anything of mine...Styx I've missed you..."

William took the photo and he stared at it for a moment, before depositing it in the one pocket he had on his shirt. "Thank you," he said solemnly. "I...have missed you too."

That was an understatement. He'd actually begun missing Ronald as soon as he was escorted to his room, and the first night there had been pure hell on Will. With each whimper, shout or maniacal cackle he heard from the other patients, he questioned his decision to commit himself. It was too late now, though. He was in the system and while he'd voluntarily checked in, it was now up to his doctors to decide when to release him. William sighed with regret and he reached across the table to take Ronald's hands in his. For once, he didn't give a damn if anyone saw him displaying such affection for his lover publicly.

"This is a rather flat and morose setting, is it not? Come, let us take a walk outside and get some fresh air. The garden is quite lovely and I'm permitted to stroll through it whenever I wish."

The garden was surrounded by a security fence of course, and there was an invisible field overhead. Since reapers were so light-weight and could leap tall distances easily, it was a requirement to ensure none of the patients could jump over the fences and escape.

Ronald nodded and let his lover lead him to the gardens.

"I hear that Grell and his partner are due to come back at the end of the month. Dispatch has decided to replace them with two other agents so that they aren't over there for the rest of the war. But mostly I think it's because rumor has it that they want to give Grell a raise."

Ron started to small-talk now that they were in a more comfortable setting. "I know how you hate gossip, but this one's a doozy. No idea if it's true, but they are saying that Grell-senpai captured the Undertaker. Chopped off his hand with an axe to make him submit enough to drag him into custody." He shrugged. "Sounds like Grell, to me, but still, it can't have been easy to do if it's true."

William stopped in his tracks, hardly believing that Sutcliff of all people could succeed where so many others—himself included—had failed. He'd seen the evidence for himself though. The day they brought the Undertaker in, William had seen the bandages covering his left hand and forearm. "Good heavens, could it be true? They do have the Undertaker in custody, but I have not yet managed to speak with him because he is in solitary confinement. I've been working with the board to try and lift some of his restrictions. Keeping him so confined with no entertainment whatsoever is only going to worsen his condition."

He still couldn't imagine the Undertaker allowing Grell to capture him single-handedly. There had to be more to this story than Ronald knew.

"You mean, it's true?" Ronald blinked in surprise. "Man, I'm really going to have to get Grell to spill this story when he gets back."

He paused and turned to face William head-on. "How have you been doing here? I've called a few times but I'm not a high enough rank to get updates on your progress... Have you been getting my letters?"

William nodded. "Indeed I have. I've kept all of them in the top drawer of my little dresser. I must confess, this place is not as bad as I supposed it would be." He took Ronald's hand in his and they resumed walking the garden paths together. "My dresser has three drawers for personal effects, my own private room, three meals per day and a snack bar in the cafeteria. There are games and activities for the residents here, though I've declined all but the chess. We are allowed media devices such as radios and players. Evidently music is very therapeutic for some patients when they begin suffering anxiety. Aside from being medicated each night to force sleep and being away from you and my job, I cannot complain."

He chose not to add that the place could use some decorative revisions. The reason there were no glass frames hung on the wall was due to the risk of patients smashing them and using the glass on others or themselves. All of the eating utensils were plastic, and all of the drinking containers were plastic as well. Looking around, he spotted the shaded area he liked to sit in and read beneath, because it offered some quiet and privacy from others.

"This way," he urged, tugging Ronald's hand. He intended to make every moment of his lover's visit count.

"As long as it's not as bad as it seems from where I stand, I guess." Ron sighed, squeezing his hand. "Seems you had spoiled me since we got together...I still can't get used to sleeping alone, and your pillows are falling victim to my nightly cuddling needs. That first night I crashed on Eric's couch, woke up half consumed by the cushions," he babbled on, sitting down on the bench he was led to. But once they were both seated, he couldn't help but steal a kiss, leaning in to connect his lips to Will's.

William cupped the back of Ronald's head to keep him from retreating and he deepened the kiss, humming in his throat with desire. His mind went back to their interrupted encounter and he slid his tongue past Ronald's lips, suggestively thrusting it. Perhaps it was a mistake to do so, because he started to harden in his jumper pants. There weren't any rules against patients kissing visiting spouses or lovers, but he was still a private man who didn't wish to make a public display. Still, he couldn't bring himself to break the kiss and his other hand slid down Ronald's back to draw him closer.

Ronald moaned and slid himself closer. Unlike William, he wasn't so private and couldn't care less if anyone saw them. As such, he moved to straddle William's lap and pin him into the kiss. Though when he found William's condition with his leg, a red blush assaulted his cheeks. But he didn't let up, he simply shifted his body to help hide the tent in Will's loosely fitting pants.

"Ronald," murmured Will between kisses. Styx help him, he wanted the blond. "I cannot express how sorry I am that we never got the chance to finish that night, before we were so rudely interrupted."

His lips trailed kisses over Ronald's face and jaw, and his hand slid lower to cup the younger man's bottom. He was fast forgetting where they were...and along with that, propriety.

"Hey, I waited this long for you, didn't I? You're worth waiting longer." Ronald moaned, sliding his hand under Will's shirt to dance his fingers over his abs and sides, "Besides, we did get a taste of the desserts to come, right? We now know a little better how much foreplay we both need."

William's breath quickened and he slid his other hand down Ronald's back to squeeze his bottom with both hands. "Indeed. At least I managed to bring you to completion before our encounter was interrupted. For that small blessing, I'm thankful."

He was seriously considering bringing Ronald to completion again, right there in the garden. Shocked at his own bold thoughts, Will averted his gaze and he cleared his throat. "The things you so easily put in my head, Mister Knox. Honestly."

Ronald smirked. "Thinking dirty thoughts about me?" he guessed. "I don't mind. I do the same all the time. Even at work... oh, don't let your boss side know that!" he laughed.

"Considering how much I've been missing your inappropriate behavior in the office, I honestly don't believe the 'boss' side of me minds at this point." William dragged his lips over Ronald's cheek to his ear and he blew in it gently, before sucking the lobe. He nibbled it a little and his hands roamed back up Ronald's back.

"Ah, so _that's_ why you're here." Ronald teased, closing his eyes, "Your boss side got lost in your lover side. Damn, I must be sexier than I thought."

"Mm, you certainly are," agreed Will. His hands glided up and down Ronald's sides and he sucked on his clavicle, longing for him in ways that were more than sexual. He wished that Ronald could stay overnight with him—whished he could share his bed, even if all they did was kiss, touch and embrace. William sighed and he suddenly rested his cheek against Ronald's chest, arms stealing around him to hold him close.

"I do miss you, Ronald Knox," he confessed softly, eyes growing heavy-lidded. "I cannot describe how eager I am for these dark days to end so that you and I can enjoy a more normal relationship...however that may be defined."

Ron slid his fingers through Will's hair, "Have you come home...that'd be normal enough for me. Just having you back in the comfort of your fancy apartment where you can feed the pigeons roosting on your sill and I can wiggle my way into your bed next to you."

"That would be lovely," agreed Will. He kissed Ronald's throat again and he sighed, holding him tighter. "I keep comparing myself to these other patients and sometimes I feel I made a mistake. I don't feel nearly as unstable as they are...but sometimes I imagine things that convince me I do not belong back in my ordinary life, as yet. Be patient with me as you have been. This cannot last forever, Ronald."

"As I said before: you are worth the wait." Ronald smiled, kissing him again. "Oh, and your dad's an asshole He showed up a few days ago at your place, demanding I leave everything to him to take care of. He said that he's family so it's his responsibility if you've cracked. But I told him to sod off and that I'm your lover and have more of a claim to handling your affairs as to your request than he. I heard he's talking to his lawyer about it but I'm sure we have nothing to worry about since you already signed everything over to me until you get out."

Will gave a dry, bitter smirk. He was briefly surprised that Ronald had the stones to not only tell the man to sod off, but to also inform him of their romantic relationship. "Yet he hasn't bothered to even attempt to drop by and visit me. How typical of him. You did well, Ronald. You are correct; he has no legal recourse and I'm gladder than ever that I decided to entrust my assets to you before doing this. I don't believe he would attempt to cheat me, but he might hold it over my head once I get released. I could not bear to be under his thumb again."

"I didn't like the way he referred to you. Made you sound more like-cattle or something. I decided right off I didn't want his blessing to court you." he smirked, "Boy, did he get pissed when he realized he wasn't going to be scaring me off, even with that glare of his that causes a vein in his temple to pulse."

"Mm, I recall that glare very well," sighed Will. He kissed Ronald's jaw and then made his way back to his lips. "With him, it has always been about control. Perhaps that's why I've become such a perfectionist over time. I was once a tad rebellious, back when I entered the academy. I could have been an A student had I wished to, but as you know, B's are perfectly acceptable as a passing grade. I deliberately put in only enough effort to pass, just to annoy my father and show him that I no longer cared about his approval. Why work so hard for something I was never likely to receive, no matter how well I did?"

William shrugged and he pulled back to look at Ronald, his gaze flitting over the young man's features and committing them to memory. "You know, it never occurred to me before now to ask whether patients may be granted conjugal visits if they are lucid enough to request them. Perhaps I'll make an inquiry as to that."

Prison inmates were allowed such visits to see to their needs—even murderers. This situation wasn't quite the same though, and for many patients the ability to consent was dubious. He thought it was worth a try though.

Ronald nodded and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Will's, "I'm young, and my hormones are out of control. I can't help thinking about what you and I could do together if given the chance."

"We really didn't have the opportunity to have a full night together," sighed William, "only a taste. I find that quite frustrating."

He really had nobody to blame but himself, truthfully. He could have kicked everyone out of his house and then waited for the next day to commit himself—but had he done that, his resolve might have wavered and the night would have been ruined by his episode anyway. He looked at the young man straddling him again and he reached up to brush aside Ronald's feathered bangs.

"We shall have our night together eventually, whether it comes through conjugal visitation or after I'm declared fit for release."

"Or," Ronald gave a mischievous smirk, "We could always sneak a romp in the bushes. You know, after we find out if we can do it the proper way or not." He cupped the side of Will's neck with his hand, his thumb rubbing up and down behind his ear and jaw in a comforting manner.

William's face heated and he shifted restlessly beneath Ronald as the blond's suggestion provoked more lustful thoughts. "Such an illicit creature you are," he breathed. "I'm half-tempted to take you up on that offer, but imagine what might happen to my thus far spotless behavior reports if someone were to find us?"

He smirked and he turned his head to kiss the caressing hand. "The temptation is strong, but I don't wish to extend my stay in this place by violating any rules."

"Yeah but I don't see how banging your willing boyfriend is a bad thing." Ron smirked, kissing along his jawline and down his neck. "Everyone has their needs, after all. If we can't get permission for sexy times, I'll totally take full blame of seducing you behind their backs! It's more believable if I say it was my idea, anyway. Seeing as I have a playboy rep and you have a...rule following rep."

William sobered a bit. "Ronald, have you any idea how much trouble you could get in for having sexual relations with a patient in here? It doesn't matter that we are in a relationship. We must at least attempt to get the proper documentation to work around it. I could possibly look into our options for...exclusive privacy privileges. We aren't allowed locks on our chamber doors for obvious reasons, but it might be possible to procure a time of day when we are allowed privacy in my room for a time. I would have to prove to them that I am utterly capable of consent and no threat to you if left alone and unsupervised."

William sighed. "But if I am going to request that privilege, I may as well inquire about my eligibility for a day pass, once or twice per month. Some patients are granted a twenty-four hour pass to go home or spend the day with family, but the process of obtaining such a thing is rather involved. Additionally, you and I aren't family." He smirked ruefully, his eyes sweeping over the blond. "We're quite something else...but as my trustee you may have certain advantages that a mere friend or associate would not. In a sense you are my guardian whilst I'm in this place, so that may count in our favor."

He lowered his gaze and he rubbed his palms up and down Ronald's legs again. "I shall try both avenues, if it could result in us having the opportunity for intimacy sooner. Otherwise I fear we'll have to settle for stolen moments in nooks, during your visits."

He didn't tell Ronald that he feared the young man would grow restless and get tired of waiting for him. William wasn't used to commitment and while he had no reason to believe Ronald would stray, he'd seen other couples do it before when parted for long periods of time.

"I won't allow this situation to distance us any more than it has to," promised William with a kiss. "I shall do everything in my power to see that you aren't neglected."

"Will," Ron cupped his cheeks to hold his gaze, "Your business side is showing. You know I was half joking, right? I wouldn't do anything that could get my visiting rights taken away. Being able to see and talk to you is a whole lot more important than doing the do with you."

Will stared back, relaxing a bit but unable to completely banish the uncertainty he felt deep down. He parted his lips to confess as much, to tell Ronald that he'd never felt this way before about anyone, but he still had those carefully constructed barriers that prevented him from speaking from the heart. As usual, he decided to express himself with actions in lieu of words. He slipped his arms around his companion's waist and he locked their lips together.

Ronald breathed in, immersing himself into the kiss, his hands wandering again, though he kept his touch in check, making sure not to tempt William too much by touching him in the more 'naughty' locations.

"I love you." he moaned against his lips, "I really do..."

William's breath caught.

_~Blessed Styx, just say it. Tell him. Tell him that you feel the same.~_

He was afraid, though. Terrified, in fact. He cared so deeply for this young reaper now and his mother's voice was telling him that Ronald deserved to know it.

"I...I cant," gasped William. "Father won't have it..."

His vision blurred with tears and he cursed himself. "Ronald..."

How could he tell him how difficult it was for him to trust...and to love?

Ronald pulled back, a confused frown upon his face. "What does he have to do with anything?"

What William had just said made zero sense to him. He couldn't even make a guess as to why it had been said, or what was being referred to that William 'couldn't' do because of said man.

William struggled for words, trying to think of how he could explain the disapproval he'd been struggling with for his entire life. "I...apologize. I do want to open up to you, Ronald. Of every reaper I've known, you've been the only one I felt truly comfortable with, and you deserve to have your feelings reciprocated in every way. It's just...my father..."

He shook his head, wondering how he could ever explain to his lover how much that man had emotionally crippled him. "I...do love you too. There. I've said it."

Ronald blinked in surprise. "You don't have to force it if you aren't ready to use the 'L' word with me." He tried to keep his tone soothing. "It doesn't make me love you any less. But you know, that man has absolutely no say in our relationship. We don't need his approval for anything."

He lifted Will's hand and kissed his knuckles. "I meant it when I told you we can move slowly. Just because we are ready to make love doesn't mean you are ready to tell me out loud that you love me."

"But I need you to know," insisted William tightly. "It is important to me that you of all reapers know what is in my heart. I...fail at expressing myself and though it came out strained, my declaration was true. I do love you, Ronald. I only wish I were better at saying so. You deserve to hear it."

One of the staff members started to call out. "Hello? Who's back there?"

William sighed and he eased Ronald off of his lap, before the orderly could see them in such a compromised position. He kissed Ron's cheek as he did so and he met his eyes. "I mean it, Knox."

"I do hear it, though. You don't kiss me the way that past dates and hook-ups have kissed me. Those all lacked emotion Your kisses don't. You lay it all out there for me to feel. I know you love me." Ronald took Will's hand. "Come on, we don't want to get you into trouble."

With a regretful sigh, William stood up with his boyfriend. He could at least take solace in the knowledge that Ronald knew his heart, even if he was terrible at expressing himself. "Yes, let us return indoors."

* * *

A few days later, William was in the entertainment room when he noticed a certain albino, ancient reaper being escorted to one of the couches by the staff. He straightened up in his seat by the window and he stared at his mentor. The Undertaker's injured hand was now unwrapped and there was no scar to show for his injury. Getting up from his seat, he approached the man warily, a thousand questions on his lips. He'd wanted so badly to convince the Undertaker to agree to seek help, and now here he was...for reasons William could only guess.

"Sir?" he said as he stepped around the couch. "May I...join you?"

The Undertaker glanced up and he gave William a bright, too-sunny smile. "Willy! I was hoping to run into you. Of course, my lad. Have a seat here." He patted the spot next to him.

William sat down beside him and he threaded his fingers together, taking a deep breath. "Rumor has it Sutcliff was the one to bring you in. Is that in any way true?"

"Mm." The ancient nodded and he combed his bangs out of his eyes, casting a sidelong wink at William. "That's what I let the lady think, anyhow."

Will took a deep breath, knowing that this place couldn't really hold his mentor for long if the Undertaker didn't wish to stay. "Why in hells are you here? You did not seem overtly fond of the idea when I offered to bring you in for help after our agreement."

The mortician turned his head, his smile still fixated in his pale, scarred face. "Why, I came for you, my lad. William, they can't help—"

One of the orderlies interrupted. "Begging your pardon Undertaker, but you've a visitor."

The Undertaker blinked at the man. "Me? Oh my, that's...unexpected. Who might be calling on my crazy ol' self, then?"

"Agent Sutcliff," answered the orderly. He smiled as if he'd just met two celebrities in one day. "The very Dispatch officer that brought you in. We...understand if you don't feel up to the visit, of course." His gaze flicked to the hand that had been bandaged when William first saw Undertaker brought in.

The ancient waved it off with a chuckle. "No need to look so nervous, lad. No _real_ harm done."

He looked at William. "Seems I'm more forgivable than you in the eyes of the rose. We'll talk some more later, Willy."

"Be careful," cautioned William. "Sutcliff holds grudges and I cannot for the life of me understand why he would come to visit you."

The Undertaker stood up and cast a wink at him. "Intrigue, dear boy. Miss Sutcliff is a curious sort. Who knows? You could be attending our wedding some day."

William barely resisted a snort and the turned his head before the older reaper could see him roll his eyes.

* * *

Unlike when Ronald came to visit William, Grell had been granted a more private location for his visit with the undertaker. At least, private in the way of being away from the other patents. There was a guard in the room to make sure nothing got out of control.

Grell, however, was set on making things go that way. He paced around the room, waiting for the Undertaker.

Finally, the door opened and an orderly guided Undertaker in. But Grell didn't even give the man time to greet him.

"You did this on purpose!" He accused, marching up to the legend, his eyes narrowed. "You did this to ruin a good thing! I'd be happy if it weren't for you! I suppose you've heard? A promotion! They want to give _me_ a promotion! They want to take me off the field and stick me behind some stuffy old desk! I'm not a paper-pusher, Unnie! I'm a field officer! I need the thrill of collections to stay sane!"

He gripped Undertaker's powder blue shirt and shook him, "Are you _trying_ to drive me back into madness? I'll snap and go on another killing spree and end up right back in this very place! You are trying to trick me into it and I won't have it!"

By this time the guard was warning Grell to stand down, but was completely ignored.

The Undertaker shot a look at the guard and he grinned. "Feel free to incarcerate Miss Sutcliff too, if you like. I imagine his ramblings aren't looking too pretty."

He turned his Cheshire grin on the fuming redhead. "A promotion, is it? Look at you, climbing the corporate ladders whether you like it or not. Funny thing...I can relate to that."

He nodded to the guard and amazingly, the man nodded back and left them alone in the room. The Undertaker stepped back from Grell and he chuckled softly. "Do you think I did this all for _you_ , li'l rose? Alas, that isn't the case. I did it to be close to Willy. My old apprentice. The sort of aid he needs isn't just psychological and he doesn't stand a chance of improving without the guidance of one that knows exactly what he's going through."

The mortician winked. "I _have_ been clinging to the narrow hope that you might come in for a visit, though. Look at it on the bright side, love; you'll have more money to buy more pretty baubles for yourself. Isn't that lovely?"

"Not worth it." Grell huffed, crossing his arms and turning away, "I don't want to end up back here for evaluation! I want to be out reaping souls. And a job like the one they want to put me in would only land me right back in here, I just know it! It was hard enough faking things to get out of here the first time with a clean bill of mental health! I need to behave!"

"Hmph," the Undertaker snorted, "'faking things'. I wonder what you might have done that could inspire such unusual loyalty, lovely."

"Does it matter?" Grell walked over and sat down, "I convinced them I wouldn't commit any more murder. But I'm not mad. I knew what I was doing. It's not like when Will was trying to kill me. His eyes were blank, like he didn't see me at all."

The mortician frowned, thinking carefully on Grell's words. "Have you had the opportunity to see or talk to our dear Willy since that night? He's oddly out of sorts, I've noticed."

Undertaker dared to reach out and capture Grell's smaller hands in his. "Grell, darlin', you need to know that this isn't going to solve anything for either of us. I came here t' be near him and help him, but there's not a psychiatrist in the world that can help him now. If you want to do Willy any good, you'll stress the point on getting him out of this place as soon as possible."

"I have been busy working." Grell pointed out, "I haven't seen him, and it's not my place to get him out of here. He chose to be here, and Ronnie's supporting him. They think this can help him."

"Do they now?" The Undertaker scratched his chin pensively. "I suppose in the short-run it might be helpful, but what he's ailing from can't be cured with conventional methods."

He tilted his head and he brushed his bangs out of his eyes, smiling at the crimson reaper. "Now I've got to wonder why you came here, pretty rose. If it wasn't for William, then for whose benefit was it? Mine, perhaps? Have I managed to catch your interest?"

"I—" Grell tensed up and folded his arms, nose in the air. "I only came here to scold you for getting me stuck with a promotion I don't want!"

"There's always this lovely little word called 'no'," reminded the mortician with a chuckle. "Couldn't you have employed the use of that?"

His gaze roved over the lovely crimson treat sitting before him, and the Undertaker silently hoped his words wouldn't run Grell off too soon. He happened to like agent Sutcliff...possibly more than was wise. "You ought to pay a visit to Willy too. I understand you parted on less than friendly terms with him but I think you still have a care for the bloke, deep down. Might be good for the both of you to have a sit-down with him."

Grell shook his head, "They won't accept a refusal because Will's here and not in his stupid fancy office. Besides. I annoy him too much. I drove him to put himself in this loony-bin, I'd likely only make it so he never gets out."

"Hmm." Undertaker scratched his chin, intrigued. "Now what could you have done to achieve such a violent reaction, eh? Must have happened right after I left, I wager."

"I wanted him to tell me himself his feelings for my Ronnie!" Grell huffed, "I was looking out for my cute junior but Will seemed to think otherwise. He doesn't have my blessings after that!"

The redhead sighed, "He probably thinks I was going to have a fit that he's dating someone other than me. Doesn't realize I have known for a long, long time that I'm not the one that is destined to warm that icy heart of his. But that didn't mean I couldn't hang off him while he was still single!"

"Well now, don't take it too hard," soothed the Undertaker. "Willy's always had intimacy problems, you know. If he felt backed into a corner, it's no wonder he got worked up. I, on the other hand, suffer no such aversion to intimacy."

Undertaker smiled engagingly at the redhead. "Feel free to hang off me all you like, m'dear. Will just needs a bit of space to sort out his thoughts and decide what he wants to do. I haven't even approached him, in fact. I let him come to me. I imagine he's not terribly pleased with me either."

"Hang off you?" Grell scoffed. "As handsome as you are and as powerful as you have proven yourself-you still have harmed my face far too many times! You can't go from harming a lady's face to flirting with her! You crossed a line with that, Unnie!"

"Then I s'pose I'll just have to find a way to make it up to you, sooner or later." The mortician was not deterred. In fact, he welcomed a challenge. What fun was there in courting someone that caved right away? He traced patterns on the table with his fingernails, gazing into Grell's eyes with an unfaltering little smile on his pale lips. "My hand's fully recovered now, by the way. I thought you might like to know that. No lady enjoys a lover with weak hands, after all."

"You seem confident that you'll win me over." Grell observed, eyeing the hand he had previously removed from the man's body. He had to admit to himself, at least, that he had been teasing the ancient that day with licking his fingers. He was interested. After all, who wouldn't be? But Grell wasn't the type to fall into a pair of arms simply because a handsome, strong man smiled at him. And he had plenty of reasons not to give into this one in particular.

"Only time will tell." Undertaker propped his chin in his hand. "You know, Miss Sutcliff...you and I aren't all that different. I think we could come to understand one another better than most in this world. Birds of a feather, and all that."

He was fairly sure that Grell didn't hear the voices of the dead on the mortal plane, but he'd killed those not on the death lists before, and he'd succumbed to blood lust. Unlike most of the lady's compatriots, the Undertaker would never judge him for the Ripper situation.

"You think so?" Grell raised an elegant red eyebrow, "And what makes you think that?"

He thought he knew where this was going, but he was curious as to what the other man would say.

The Undertaker shrugged. "Folk think we're both lunatics. Well, I suppose that's true enough of me, considering where I am. You've worn a jumper like this at one point though, as I understand it. I'd have thought you wouldn't want to set foot in a place like this again, and yet here you are! The lovely lady took time out of the day just to come and see me."

Undertaker winked at Grell. "There's chemistry there, pet. We've both made our marks on each other. Mayhap there's something more we could enjoy someday, yeah?"

Grell's cheeks flushed pink, "Stepping foot here again is different when I'm free to leave whenever I feel like it, and I'm not being forced into taking those stupid little pills every night. And I wasn't...that...busy..."

"But you just said you've got more responsibility now than you ever wanted," Undertaker pointed out slyly. " _quod erat demonstrandum_ _, you must be terribly busy. I'm flattered, really."_

"I don't start that job until Monday. Stop making it sound like you are special! You aren't! The public just thinks you are, and that's getting to your head." Grell poked Undertaker's forehead.

"Oh, I couldn't give a toss what society thinks," assured the mortician, still grinning. He was having a grand time pushing Grell's buttons. "I'm just enjoying your company, lovely. No need to get sore over it. You've piqued my curiosity is all. Feel free to poke me wherever you like."

"I poke whomever I feel like. And I think you do care what others think of you. Why else would you resist capture for so long? And what's so special about Will that would change your mind on it?"

"I resisted capture because I loathe being bored," answered the mortician with a shrug. "As for Will, he was once my apprentice; like Knox was yours. I saw him starting to go down the same path I did and I decided he might do better with someone that knows what it's like nearby. Oh, these quack doctors here can evaluate and medicate the chap all they want, but they'll never know what it's like."

He tilted his head, his smile softening a bit as he studied Grell. "Wouldn't you agree with that, Miss Sutcliff? When you were in here, who _really_ helped you get out...the staff or yourself?"

"It was all me," Grell agreed, "but if Will thinks he needs this, who are we to tell him otherwise?" He gave a giggle. "Madness...they say I have it but isn't true madness that in which they insist the only help they need is pointless? Ah~ Well, I guess Will at least gets the rest he has needed for years."

"Or mayhap Will doesn't understand what's really going on, just yet," sighed the Undertaker. He glanced at the guard, and he decided not to elaborate too much in his presence. "I s'pose you're right enough, though. If this is what he thinks he needs then it's what he needs t' do...for now. Good to see you at least understand how much he overworks himself. That tells me you still give a toss, even if you say you don't."

"I said I'm mad at him, I didn't say I don't care. He may not like to admit it, but he's my best friend, and he's not going to shake me that easily. " Grell pointed out.

"Well then, no need to carry on with all this pouting," insisted the mortician with a smile. "You know, apologies can go a long way, my dear. You admitted to me that you believe it was something you said that pushed him on over—though I daresay he'd have tripped up sooner or later, mind you. Have you thought of at least trying to have a word with him? I'm sure Ronnie'd appreciate your efforts, if nothing else."

_~Not to mention, I'm sure Will's got some concealed guilt over it he'd like to part with.~_

The Undertaker kept that last bit to himself—only because he knew his former apprentice well enough to understand how prideful William was. The man was likely horrified that he'd come close to reaping Grell, but there was a trick to dealing with him. When confronted, Will always pushed back. When treated to kindness, he tended to crumble.

"I came here to scold you, not him." Grell shook his head. "He can wait longer to hear from me. You only harmed my beautiful face-he nearly reaped my soul. Big difference."

Undertaker propped his elbow on the table and he palmed his cheek in his hand. "Yet you said yourself that you pressed him to admit feelings. Lovely, there's a time when you must learn to back off. Trust me or not, everyone has their limits. I've no idea of the details that went on, but I suspect—knowing Willy—he gave you ample warning. Be that as it may, I can't blame you for feeling the way you do. By the by, I didn't mean to harm your sweet little face. The glass did all that."

The mortician almost looked sheepish. "I can be a big vigorous. You _did_ lop off my hand, though."

"His warnings mean nothing when he gives them to me daily!" Grell insisted, "And you deserved that. It wasn't for my face, it was for touching my not-so-lady-bits without permission! They are called privates for a reason, Unnie."

The mortician waggled his fingers and grinned when the guard blinked at him. "Enjoying the conversation, chap?" When the guard looked away, Undertaker addressed Grell again. "I admit that wasn't the most appropriate way to satisfy my curiosity. I hope cutting off my hand gave you back a bit of dignity. Mayhap next time I'll have your permission to touch, eh?"

He winked at the redhead and relaxed in his chair, sitting back so that Grell would have to stand up and reach over the table to poke him again. Of course, as a being that lost his sense of shame long ago, the Undertaker had a plan worked out if Grell happened to do that.

"It did—and it was more satisfying than you know." Grell sighed, "But I suppose it was an over reaction." he mused, "Would you hold it against me if I still enjoyed having your hand hostage?"

To the surprise of the guard, the Undertaker laughed. "Not at all, lovely. You know, however...you don't need to chop my hand off to hold it."

He started to reach across the table to demonstrate his point and take Grell's hand, and the guard tensed and shook his head. "Sorry, Master Undertaker, but touching isn't allowed at this stage of your rehabilitation."

The mortician frowned at the man. "But he just poked me in the forehead," he objected with a graceful gesture at Grell. "You didn't get onto him."

"He isn't committed and it wasn't improper or threatening."

The Undertaker sighed, wondering what in the world anyone could find 'improper' or 'threatening' about touching someone's hand. "Party pooper."

Grell apparently also found the guard's words odd, and he decided to play, giving a flirty coo; "Ohh, are you just jealous that a handsome who's crazier than you would get to hold my hand?"

He got up and twirled over to the guard, leaning in as he read the man's name off his badge, "Tony. I'm flattered, but I _did_ chop the man's hand off with an axe. I need to make sure it did in fact heal correctly. I'd feel bad if such an old reaper's wrist didn't heal proper. You'd let me examine it at least, right, darling?"

The guard seemed stunned, blinking at him, and Grell giggled. "Good enough answer!" He pulled back and walked over, sitting on the tabletop as he took Undertakers hand to examine his wrist, winking at the elder. The Undertaker's smile took to his ears as Grell gently turned his hand over, fingertips brushing lightly and cajolingly against his palm.

"And what's your diagnosis, nurse Sutcliff?" His voice was oddly husky and that surprised him. Goodness, it had been a long time since he'd flirted with anyone. His white-lashed gaze was heavy-lidded on the other reaper as he enjoyed the contact.

"No lasting damage, it seems... Maybe I should have used my scythe." Grell kissed Undertaker's long pointer finger before letting his hand go, "Leave my mark on you."

"Mmm, it's a scar I wouldn't have minded adding to my collection."

The guard cleared his throat and the mortician frowned up at him. "You're still here? Can't a body have a chat with a lady without you making throaty sounds of disapproval?"

The man seemed a bit cowed by the Undertaker's scolding—and nobody could blame him, considering the scowl on the ancient's normally smiling features. "I'm sorry, but your visitation time has expired. I'm afraid you'll have to carry on this...conversation...another time. Agent Sutcliff, I'm afraid it's time for you to leave the room so that the patient can be escorted back to his room."

"That's _it_?" Huffed the Undertaker. "Fifteen piddly minutes with my lovely bloodletter? You really _are_ a party pooper."

"Sir, don't force me to have you sedated again," warned the guard, reaching for his communication device.

"But I'm the sexy agent who captured this crazy storm of a reaper. Surely I get to have a longer visit." Grell batted his eyelashes. "It's not like he's upset over seeing me."

"That may be so, sir—"

"Madam," corrected the Undertaker immediately; to which the guard gave the hairy eyeball to, "At least address a lady properly."

The guard cleared his throat. "Well, that may be so, but rules are rules and this particular patient is under heavy restriction and observation. I must insist: there can be no exceptions. Otherwise we must allow other exceptions as well."

"Posh," Grell waved him off, "He's as tame as a bunny." Grell said, moving around and taking the elder's long hair, holding thick locks of it up in a mockery of rabbit ears.

The guard looked away and visibly fought a smile. "I can allow five more minutes. Anything more will get me into trouble with my superiors."

Undertaker tucked his hands up like a bunny and nodded, a bright smile plastering itself on his face. "You're too kind. Well, Miss Sutcliff, should you ever desire it, I'll be happy to wear a pair of bunny ears and a puffy tail for you. Granted, most folks tend to compare me more to a wolf, but I could be a rabbit just for you."

"Whomever thinks you to be a wolf has never met me." Grell chuckled, hardly realizing that he'd let himself slip and was not only flirting, but was forgiving him before he had wanted to; and before he knew it, he'd planted a small kiss on the madman's cheek.

The Undertaker went still with surprise. How long had it been since he'd felt another's warm lips against his skin, on any part of his body? He couldn't recall. All he knew was it made him tingle all over and a delicate blush arose in his cheeks.

_~Oh dear...I'm actually...blushing!~_

He honestly thought he wasn't capable of such a thing anymore. Always a creature of impulse despite his being flustered, the mortician turned his head and returned the favor—only _his_ kiss landed directly on Grell's still-puckered lips.

Now it was Grell's turn to be caught by surprise. His eyes widening behind his red frames. He tended to kiss others, but rarely did they ever kiss back. William never had, and Sebastian-forget about it. Yet, here he was, lips locked with none other's but _Legendary Death's_.

The dismal room they occupied faded away as Grell allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the treat given to him. Hardly noticing the scolding that he and/or Undertaker were now receiving from the guard. He slipped delicately into the man's lap, dropping his hair in favor of wrapping his arms around his shoulders before seeing how far he could take it before he found himself rejected; his tongue eagerly coaxing Undertaker's soft lips to part.

_~Goodness...where was I, again?~_

Undertaker couldn't recall. All that existed in the moment was the feel of this delicate but deadly reaper in his lap and the sweet caress of his tongue. He returned Grell's affections with enthusiasm and he had half a mind to pick him up and carry him into his cell—which the staff there affectionately but naively referred to as a "bedroom"—and pretend to make little reaper babes with him. His body heated up and he stroked Grell's hair, his tongue pushing in past the redhead's lips insistently.

"Sirs! I m-must protest," stammered the guard. "This is so _beyond_ against the rules, I can't even... _stop that_! Undertaker, I'll be forced to call security and have you sedated!"

"Mmm, bugger off," mumbled the ancient, briefly breaking the kiss before claiming Grell's lips again. He cut his tongue on one of Grell's sharp teeth when he plunged it into his mouth again, but he hardly noticed it.

"He's-not even-poking-oops! I was wrong~" Grell giggled into Undertaker's mouth, feeling the man shift under him and feeling a hint of arousal in his loose-fitting light blue pants. "We aren't naked so it's fine!" he gasped out, "Let me enjoy this treat!"

"Agent Sutcliff, I have to ask you to get off of the patient _right now_ and leave this room," insisted the guard, reaching for his communication device. "This sort of activity between visitors and patients is strictly forbidden without the proper authorization, and even then, it's limited!"

The Undertaker sighed and he reluctantly parted from the kiss. "I'd hate t' see you get into more trouble 'cause of me, lovely. Seems I've done enough harm already."

The redhead pouted, being pulled away from Undertaker and escorted to the door. "This place is still no fun. You guys never let me do what I want and I'm not even a loony in this glorified bin, this time." He glanced at Undertaker. "You'll see me again - _if_ you're lucky." he winked before he was forced to leave the room.

"Hey! No pushing! Honestly, no one knows how to treat a lady here!"

The Undertaker sighed softly as he watched Grell leave, and then he glanced down at his crotch. "Quiet, you. We aren't likely to get a romp with that darling anytime soon even if she _is_ willing, so behave yourself."

The body part in question wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to his warning, though.

* * *

-To be continued


	21. Chapter 21

Grell allowed himself to be escorted to the lobby without trouble, but as soon as he was there he turned around and walked back to the check-in desk.

"Hello again~ I'm here for a visit."

"Mister Sutcliff!" The guard intervened, "You cannot cheat and get more visitation time by checking in again right away. Come back tomorrow."

"I'm not asking to see my bunny!" Grell shook his head mockingly, "I have more than one lunatic in this place and nothing says I can't visit with another handsome man the same day! I wish to have time with Will Spears. He tried to murder me, you know~"

"All the more reason for you not to visit him," muttered the guard. "You will have to fill out the proper documentation to request a visit with Mister Spears, and of course you must be aware that he has the right to refuse."

"Why would he refuse me? I'm his best friend!" Grell waved him off. "Give me the paperwork."

He smirked, well aware of the unbelieving looks he was getting from those present in the room. Truly, according to society's outlook, Grell was the one that should have been committed rather than William. But Grell had no intention of allowing himself to be locked back up.

"Then come right this way," gritted out the guard, obviously losing patience with him. He guided Grell to the reception area so that he could fill out the proper documentation to get a visit with William.

* * *

Will came damned close to rejecting the visitation request when they informed him that Grell Sutcliff had put it in. Guilt was a heavy cloak around him though, and he was above all a proper and mannerly reaper. He thought that he at least owed the bothersome redhead an explanation. After all, he'd visited Grell a couple of times when Sutcliff was briefly committed to this place. There was no good reason to deny him, save for the risk of Grell pushing him to the brink once more.

"Fine, send him in," he sighed after a moment's thought. "Please see to it that there is an orderly present, though. Sutcliff was the determining factor to my decision to commit myself here, after all."

The doctor gave a respectful nod. "Yes, of course. I think this is an important step for you to take, Mister Spears."

William tried to relax against the couch and he looked out the window. "If you believe so, Dr. Jenkins. I myself wonder over the wisdom of allowing this, but I mustn't be uncouth."

The doctor smirked a bit. "You put so much importance on good manners, Agent Spears. Has it ever occurred to you that part of your problem lies with your unbending sense of propriety?"

William smirked a bit himself. "Yes, the thought _has_ occurred to me. As advised by my partner, I am attempting to rectify that and...loosen up."

Dr. Jenkins chuckled. "I wonder if there's enough medication in the world to achieve that...but it's your choice. I'll have Agent Sutcliff brought in here to the activity room with an escort, as requested."

William gave an elegant nod of his head. He might have been in the office, for all his mannerisms. "Please do. I find this area comforting."

* * *

Not even five minutes later, Grell sat in a chair across from William, his ankle crossed over his knee as he leaned back, twisting his long hair into a loose braid over his shoulder.

"I didn't want to see you," the redhead admitted, breaking the awkward silence between them. "It was quite upsetting for me last time we saw each other but my little bunny told me it'd be good for you, and like it or not, you are still my friend and I do want to see you out of this place. You don't belong here, Darling."

William stared at him suspiciously. He crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch, wondering what his angle was and who in the hells this "bunny" was that Grell spoke of. "I should think that I do, given what I nearly did to you. As abrasive as I often find you, Sutcliff, my attacking another Dispatch agent is no small thing. My behavior was inexcusable."

Will lowered his gaze, his mouth compressing into a thin line as he replayed the moment in his head. It was mostly a blur, but he did recall one very important thing about it. "It wasn't you. What I mean to say is, I was not _seeing_ _you_ in the moment. I was seeing a Nazi officer. I was...delusional. Somehow you, Jeffries and Knox managed to get through these assignments with your sanity intact, and yet I myself did not. You say that I don't belong in here but even in your darkest moments, you never once attacked one of your own. You've no idea how much I wish I could agree with you about my mental state, Grell. I would love nothing more than to go home and enjoy a long day off with Ronald in my arms, and I apologize if that statement hurts you."

He sighed and he looked Grell in the eyes. "I love him. There, I've said it."

"You seem so sure I wouldn't have turned on one of my own had things ended differently. Might I remind you that you came to get me after I had been defeated, Darling. Had it been you rather than the Phantomhive brat and Sebby, I would have crossed scythes with you instead. I was quite enjoying myself, Will, and I didn't wish for it to end."

The redhead smiled, "And thank you for finally confirming your feelings to me. Ronnie's important to me and you have been a bit rough with my heart. I didn't wish to see him suffer the same. I have known for some time that I'm not your soul mate, my cold prince, but I wasn't about to stop our little game. Now that you are with Ronnie, I'll back off a little more."

William regarded him warily. Dare he believe that Sutcliff was being sincere with him? Past experience had colored his opinion of the crimson reaper in quite and unflattering light. "So you mean to tell me that all it takes is for me to be committed to another to end your inappropriate behavior towards me? My rejection of your advances wasn't enough for you?"

A part of him warned that he was treading on dangerous ground. Grell Sutcliff had never taken "no" for an answer before and honestly, he couldn't be certain that it was the delusion of the moment that had prompted him and not his lingering frustration and resentment. He admitted to himself that he had perhaps resorted to unkind methods to deal with Grell's advances, but what else was he to do when every attempt to pry the redhead's clingy attentions off of him only resulted in more flirtation?

"If you are sincere about being committed." Grell corrected, examining a fingernail when he spotted that his red polish had started chipping off. "I'm very open about my advances, Will, but I don't pursue involved men. And a man who would cheat on his lover with another isn't worth his weight in salt. Why would I be interested in such a distasteful man? I'll stick to those available, thank you."

He lowered his hand and regarded William once more, "I'm more understanding than you think, Will. You were a dream that would never come true. I knew that."

William sighed and he briefly shut his eyes, massaging his temples. "I fear I shall never understand how your logic works. I am however...glad...that you came to visit me. As much as you provoke me to anger, Grell Sutcliff, I must apologize for my treatment of you. It was extreme and I thought myself to be more in control than that."

He opened his eyes to look at him again. "Strange, how you mentioned you don't believe I belong in here. The Undertaker said much the same. Either I've gone crazier than I thought or the two of you lunatics make more sense than I suspected. I certainly don't feel I fit in here. I cannot relate to a single other patient."

Well, that last part wasn't entirely true. He related far too strongly to his former mentor. Of all the other patients in this place, the Undertaker was the only one that William felt any sense of empathy with...but he'd been blaming that on their past connection to each other. What if he truly could not get the help he needed in this place?

"You haven't had control of your self around me for years, Will. I just finally pushed your buttons at the wrong time this time. It was bound to happen. And you really don't belong here. I've been here before and I can tell you that I belong here more than you. But I'm willing to leave you here because you think you need it. Bunny, however, disagrees that you should waste time here at all."

"' _Bunny_ '?" Repeated William at a loss. "I really don't know whom you are speaking of, but I am beginning to suffer doubts concerning my decision. I sit here day by day listening to the ailments of others and the advice of the staff, and none of it feels quite right. The fact that I question myself makes me wonder if perhaps I was precisely correct in my decision, however. Insane people don't generally classify themselves as such."

William looked out the window with a troubled frown. "But what is done is done. I cannot leave here of my own volition now, even if I wish to. I gave myself over to their care and my willingness no longer matters to them. I must undergo their treatment and it is up to my doctors to decide when and if I am ready to leave."

The same could be said of the Undertaker, and William silently wondered if the man would ever walk out of this place again—unless he broke out himself. He had no doubt that the mortician would leave when he got tired of being here and gods help the fools that attempted to stop him.

"Madness is in the eye of the beholder." Grell shrugged, "But being mad doesn't mean you can't function just fine on your own. Just look at Bunny and I if you want proof of that!" Grell giggled, enjoying his new nickname for the Undertaker entirely too much. "Anyway, I think Bunny cares for you, otherwise he wouldn't have done what he did."

William's eyes widened with the realization of who this 'bunny' was. "You...and the Undertaker? S-surely not."

He almost couldn't fathom it...but then he recalled the interest his old mentor had shown in Sutcliff and how often Grell extolled the man's looks despite his anger at him. "Good lords, please don't tell me..."

"You are jumping the gun, Will." Grell waved his fingers at him. "We've only shared one kiss, and that was half to fluster the guard who kept huffing at Unnie-bunny not to touch while we discussed things."

William massaged his temples again. "I'm going to try and not focus on the way you keep referring to him as your 'bunny'. When and how did this happen, Grell? A short while ago you were complaining over the damage he did to your face and swearing you would have your revenge! You are also reportedly the agent that brought him in. Help me to understand this odd development, if you please. You...you kissed him? In here? Before a guard?"

It was ridiculously surreal to him and William began to feel like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole like Alice.

"I got my revenge!" Grell insisted, "Chopped his hand right off!

Grell grinned with pride for his actions. "He was stalking me, you know, I was shopping and he was following me so I lured him into an alley and as he came upon my hiding spot, I took his hand off before he could do anything!"

He giggled and flipped his braid back over his shoulder so that it fell down his back as he leaned forward. "He then asked about you and when I told him where you were he asked me to turn him in. I shouldn't have, though, now they are putting me in a management position and won't take no for an answer! So I came back to chew him out for making me have credit for his capture.

"Oh, and I didn't kiss him. He kissed _me_." Grell added as an afterthought.

William only felt more confused, if anything. "So you managed to chop the Undertaker's hand off and then the two of you simply stood there in the alley and had a chat? And then he kissed you and asked you to apprehend him? And then they gave you a management position?"

Goodness, his old mentor was even more insane than he thought. Kissing them was the very last reaction Will could imagine himself having to having someone cut off his hand. The bit about Grell's promotion was the only part that made any sense at all to him.

"I believe I'm getting a headache."

"It's refreshing to find someone just as sane as I am~" Grell giggled, "But no, not quite. He kissed me today when I visited him, not in the alley when he asked me to apprehend him. I did, however tease him with nibbling his fingers when he couldn't feel it."

William stared at him with furrowed brows. "Your observation was correct, Grell Sutcliff: I am not the one who should be in here, of the two of us."

"No, you aren't," agreed a low, amused voice from the other side of the room. The Undertaker came shuffling over with a bright grin and he gave a bow to them as the two agents stared at him. "Hullo again, pretty love. They've allowed me to come out and socialize for a bit and I heard you were still hanging about visiting Willy. Good to see I didn't miss you."

William's temples and forehead were steadily throbbing. "I wish I could understand what's going on, here."

Undertaker plopped down on the chair next to Grell's and he scooched it closer. "We're in a loony bin. Pay attention, Willy."

He impulsively grabbed Grell's hand in his and he gave it a familiar squeeze.

Grell giggled. "Looks like we get more than fifteen minutes despite what that guard kept sputtering~" he cooed at the silver reaper, forgetting why he'd wanted to visit William despite his not actually wanting to.

"Indeed, the joke's on them," agreed the mortician with a chuckle.

"Wait, I don't understand," said William helplessly. "Sutcliff came to visit you first?"

The Undertaker shrugged and nodded. "Just before visiting you, chap. You _did_ try to reap the lady, after all. Don't get sore over it."

"But...he is the one that brought you in..."

"With my blessings," agreed the mortician with another nod. "I suggested it, in fact."

Yes, William had heard that same thing from Grell just moments before, but damned if he could work out the logic behind it. "You told him to bring you in after finding out that I was here. Why?"

Undertaker sighed as if trying to reason with a particularly stupid child. "Because you need the aid of a madman if you're to retain your sanity, m'dear. Not doctors."

William stood up, completely losing control of his temper. "Neither of you make any bloody _sense_! I want straight answers, right now!"

"Shh, lad," hushed the Undertaker when a couple of orderlies looked William's way and tensed. "No need t' get yourself all trussed up in one of those nice jackets, now. Trust me, it's hell when you find yourself needing to scratch your nose or bollocks and your arms are wrapped up too tight to do it. Er...pardon my language, love." The last part he said to Grell, and he kissed the crimson reaper's hand.

"We aren't exactly giving you twisted answers, Will." Grell pointed out, "I think you just don't want to understand it. Or, at least, parts of it."

William forced himself to calm and he sat back down again. "I want to know exactly what happened, without any ridiculous embellishments or colorful language. Undertaker, why did you give yourself up to Grell rather than agree to surrender the night I called the authorities? I do not understand this change of heart or your alleged reasons for it."

"Well it's simple, really," insisted the mortician. "I didn't initially have any reason to turn myself in to Dispatch, but then Miss Sutcliff here lopped off my hand and held it hostage. Granted, I probably could have gotten it back through force if I had to, but then Grell told me you'd had yourself committed. Seeing as I know firsthand what you're going through and I also know from experience that the treatment they offer here won't help 'tall, I decided to bargain with Miss Sutcliff. My hand in exchange for my surrender. It was my only chance to see you and help you through this, lad. What you suffer from isn't just stress from the trauma of war. You opened yourself up to the spirit world during your journeys through Germany and once you've done that so completely, the door can never be closed again."

William lowered his gaze, heart thumping painfully with the implications of what he'd just heard. "What proof have you that all of it is not merely in my head, sir? Forgive me if I am reluctant to take the word of a madman."

Undertaker leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. He shook his bangs aside to look Will in the eye. "You only hear 'em when you're in the mortal realm, don't you? Haven't heard a peep since stepping into ours."

William recoiled a bit and he answered carefully, watching the ancient as if he were a snake about to strike. "I suppose that's true. I did hallucinate, though."

The Undertaker nodded. "That's a symptom of it too—or else that part was actually from traumatic stress. It's hard to say. What I _do_ know is that the restless dead won't just leave off, even if their voices can't reach you on this side."

"Then one could reason that all I need to do is remain in this realm," suggested William. "My position in the organization is a desk job, more often than not. Surely if I—"

"You aren't hearing me, love," interrupted the mortician. "It doesn't work that way, else I'd have stayed myself rather than defect. You've got to learn how to control it or it _will_ control _you_ , sooner or later. I never had the benefit of guidance when it got to me and...well, you've seen the result. I'd rather not see you end up like myself. It's too late for me but I can help you, if you'll let me."

"And how exactly do you propose to help me?" Demanded William. "You couldn't even help yourself, and look at where you ended up."

"True, but I've learned things since then, and if I teach them to you, there's a chance you could still live a normal life." The Undertaker shrugged. "It's up to you, Willy. Rely on their treatment and slowly deteriorate 'till you're as mad as I am, or trust in my methods and learn to control it yourself. I can't force you."

William sighed and looked out the window again. "I don't see that I have any choice in the matter. I may as well go along with it, as long as I am here. They aren't likely to release me anytime soon, so I suppose it cannot harm anything."

At lease, he hoped not. Part of him wondered if the ancient's madness was just contagious like a disease and he'd somehow caught it from him.

Grell pressed a red-painted finger to the corner of his mouth in thought, "Should I even say anything more? I already have what I originally wanted from Will, and I don't want to get him to get overly upset again."

"My rage with you is gone," sighed William. "Now all I feel is exhaustion. I cannot even muster the energy to be annoyed with you, Sutcliff."

"That's likely due to the medication they've got us on," guessed the Undertaker. "I'm feeling rather mellow myself. At least I'm not drooling anymore."

"I've sometimes known you to drool without the influence of drugs, sir." William managed a tired smirk at him. "No need to make excuses."

The mortician wiped his mouth self-consciously. "Do I? My, that doesn't sound very attractive."

Will shrugged. "When you work yourself into a frenzy of hilarity, yes. By the by, I took my medication hours ago and I became plenty agitated with you both earlier. I don't believe they have me on the same regime of pills they've prescribed to you. After all, I don't have your dangerous reputation despite my actions against Sutcliff."

"Hmm, good point. Well, shall we work out a schedule then? We could meet each day in the yard and get started right away on your lessons. Best to find someplace that's a bit private. If the staff overhears some of the things I'm going to tell you they'll write me off as a kook for certain."

"I can let Ronnie know when you'll be with Bunny." Grell offered. "That way he can come visit when you aren't getting unofficial help."

William grudgingly thanked him.

* * *

The days passed a little quicker for Will after that. Having his old mentor's frequent company was more comforting than he would have thought, and he began to learn more about something he'd already discovered: he could quiet the voices. He did not know if it would work at all times, and it was difficult to practice in this realm where he couldn't hear them anyway. Undertaker assured him that it was more of an exercise in willpower than and focus than anything else.

"I should let you know that the dead can sometimes be helpful, Will," explained the mortician softly one Friday afternoon after a little over a week had passed. "For whatever reason, they're drawn to us and they can be of assistance. The trick is to know when they're getting too overbearing and not let 'em crowd you."

"And you truly believe these exercises will prevent this from getting out of control?" William opened his eyes after practicing for several moments.

The Undertaker shrugged. "Couldn't hurt, could it? The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can test it out. Just keep playing the cooperative patient until your next evaluation and you could be getting out of here sooner than you thought."

"Yet I doubt the same could be said of you," William pointed out grimly.

Undertaker smirked. "Right. Never said I planned to stay in here once I've finished helping you though—regardless of what those quacks say."

William sighed. "I wish you would reconsider thoughts of breaking out and just allow them to treat you. The damage has already been done and you aren't likely to get any worse staying here."

"But I might just wind up bored to death." The mortician smiled. "Just you worry about your own issues, Willy."

William started to check his watch, but then he remembered they allowed no jewelry or accessories to patients. "I believe Ronald should be here soon for a visit, going by the time when we came out here."

"Then let's go back inside. I'm due for more droopy pills anyhow."

Will glanced at him and he hoped the man wasn't becoming addicted to the meds they'd put him on.

* * *

"Can I start telling people you're my boyfriend?" Ron asked after he sat down with William in Will's favorite spot in the gardens. They had put in to be allowed private time together, but were still waiting to hear on it being approved or rejected. "The girls down in records, amongst others, won't believe me when I say I'm involved with someone and they are getting overbearingly annoying. Maybe if I give them your name they'll back off. I am even getting love letters in my inbox slipped in with my paperwork!"

William blinked at him, taken off guard by the question and the reason behind it. His mouth twitched as he imagined Ronald trying to fight of amorous girls that were as bad as Grell at taking no for an answer. "Well, that did not take long after your return," he observed, pressing his fingers against his lips to control them. "Not that I particularly hold them in blame."

Will put his hand on Ronald's knee and he rubbed it. "I had hoped to wait until I return from this 'vacation' of mine, but the reality of where I am has been kept quiet, or so I've been told. I simply did not want you to get judged for dating a mental patient. Unless Sutcliff has been spreading the word around that I'm in here and not still away on business, it should not hurt anything."

For William, that was a big step. He surprised himself by agreeing to it so readily at such a time, but that was only more evidence that he had indeed fallen for Ronald.

"Really?" Ronald blinked. He had asked but had doubts that William would be ready to go public with their relationship. His lips pulled into a grin and he took Will's hand in his, giving it a squeeze to let him know how much it meant to him that he didn't have to keep hiding it.

"The only thing Grell dramatizes these days is the amount of deskwork he has in his new position. He keeps trying to sneak out to spend time out in the field. Don't worry, no one but a small handful of people know where you really are, and Eric and Alan have their lips zipped up tight."

William trusted that was true, knowing how forceful the Scotsman could be when it suited his purpose. "I've been thinking about it often whilst in here, and I realized my reluctance to go public with it stemmed from my own inexperience with commitment."

He also entertained the rather irrational fear that he would be jinxing it by announcing it. William was a cautious reaper when it came to happiness. He was so used to it never lasting that he kept expecting it to end.

"No...I don't think that's right. You have committed yourself to your job in ways that I could only dream of. I doubt it's commitment issues." Ronald said, sliding closer, "If you don't mind my honesty, I think it was more a fear of shattering the image those walls you built around you create for everyone at the office. No one would think you would get involved with anyone, well, other than the rumored one night stands that circulate. They like to see you as a robot rather than a reaper. I think you had feared that if they found out about us, then they wouldn't respect your authority anymore and production levels would drop."

William was silent for a while. Not because Ronald was wrong about that, but because nobody had ever seen inside of him that way except for the Undertaker. Nor had anyone ever penetrated those barriers the way they did. One was a lover, the other a paternal figure. Both saw who he was better even than himself.

"I did entertain that fear," he confessed slowly. Opening up was still very difficult for him, and admitting that he was afraid at all was even worse. "I suppose my father taught me to wall myself up that way. Show any sign of weakness and people will lose respect for you. I couldn't have it."

Then again, his father had never respected him even when he succeeded in maintaining a professional, cool demeanor. Nothing was ever good enough. He began to wonder if all of his personal detachment from the world of the living was what opened him up to the world of the dead. He recalled the Undertaker's advice to him just a couple of days before.

_"People need to connect, William. Even reapers. When you hold yourself back so thoroughly from all of your peers, you get lonely. Part of you starts t' reach out whether you know it or not. It's a natural social need, and if you can't socialize with the living...well..."_

He hadn't really been paying attention to him, truthfully. His mind had been on his situation and what arrangements he would soon have to make to begin taking steps to get out of the asylum.

William huffed and shook his head. Once, he clung to every word the Undertaker said to him. His loss of respect for the man caused him to miss a vital piece of information that potentially answered his questions about why this was happening to him and none of his coworkers assigned to the wartime reapings.

"Ronald...I think I did this to myself."

"Mind if I sock your father in the jaw next time I see him?" Ron asked, leaning in and kissing Will's cheek in a comforting manner. "And did what to yourself?"

All he could think of was the fact that William had committed himself to this place, which did seem to be helping him in ways. Will was starting to let go of things that he'd normally hold back on, such as keeping their relationship a secret.

"Opened a door I may not be able to shut," Will tried to explain. "The voices of the dead. Undertaker said something to the effect that when we shut ourselves off from the living, we open ourselves up to the dead. In my efforts to be a master of myself and my emotions, I withdrew from those around me and...well, Mentor believes both he and I subconsciously invited those ghosts in, because not even reapers are meant to be completely isolated."

William sighed, wondering how he was ever going to lead a normal life again. "Hmph...normal. My life was never that to begin with," he muttered beneath his breath. All of his colleagues shared a comradery with one another that he held back from. Even Grell in his annoying way enjoyed a closeness with some of his coworkers. He even seemed to grow attached to Jeffries, though he'd been so disdainful of him in the beginning. Will looked at Ronald and he tilted his head slightly, admiring the way the dappled sunlight shone through the foliage and highlighted his two-toned hair.

"The Undertaker was right," he murmured. "You _have_ been an important anchor for me, because you have taught me to interact with someone living—and not just distantly as an associate or a casual bed partner. I...wonder if that might be what saves me from the same fate he suffered, in the end."

"Then I'll be your savior." Ronald promised, slipping his arms around William, "And I can slowly help you learn what friendship is. Eric, Alan, and even Grell-senpai will help too, I'm sure."

"If it's all the same to you, don't extend that invitation to Sutcliff just yet," Will said with a dry smirk, "I believe this requires baby steps and he's rather more like a giant leap."

He returned Ronald's embrace and he nuzzled the spot where his shoulder met his neck. "By the way," William murmured, "I have put in a request for a day pass or an overnight pass at the end of the month, should my evaluation prove satisfactory enough. If they grant it to me, I shall be permitted to go home with you for twenty-four hours."

"Oh shit, I better start cleaning," Ronald joked. He had been careful not to make any huge messes in Will's apartment, and there were only a few dirty glasses in the sink and the clothes he'd brought over from his place were draped over various furnisher.

"Just Eric and Alan, then. Maybe we can have a double date with them when you are granted leave."

"I...suppose," William said hesitantly. He didn't know if he was ready for such a thing, honestly. His thoughts were to spend the entire time with Ronald, and he didn't particularly want to risk being seen out and about by anyone from their department when they'd fabricated a story that he was still away in another country.

"I won't push you to." Ronald reassured him. "Just think it over while you have time. It's worth that much if it can possibly help you get better. If you decide to try, I'll set it up for us, if not...then we'll spend the day just us two."

William thought about it for a moment. He'd entrusted Slingby and Humphries with the supervision of his department while he was gone. They were good agents and they rarely annoyed him—at least, not Humphries. Perhaps there was a compromise. "We could invite them to my apartment for lunch or dinner," he suggested. "Or perhaps a film. I would rather not be seen in public and a quiet, two hour gathering in the privacy of the apartment would be acceptable."

Ronald nodded, "Double dates don't have to be out in public. When you are granted the leave, I'll extend the invitation to the two of them. No point in doing so now when we don't know for sure that you will be able to come home at all, yet."

"Agreed," said William. He started to lean in for another kiss, but he saw one of the orderlies walking the path going by their little sanctuary, so he held off. He wasn't sure they could get in trouble for a simple kiss, but he didn't wish to temp fate.

Ronald wet his lips and checked his wrist watch for the time. He hated having such a short window for his visits, and he really hoped that they would start approving the requests that William had put in. Already half their time together had been used up.

"There you are," said the orderly when he spotted them. He had sandy blond hair and a pair of green-framed glasses. He was built like Eric in height and size—an advantage in the event that a patient got aggressive and needed to be restrained. "Sorry to interrupt you two, but visiting time's got to be cut short—"

A figure in resident jumpers with long silver hair rushed silently up behind the man and the orderly suddenly yelped.

"Tag! You're it!"

The orderly spun around with wide eyes as the Undertaker ran off down the path, giggling maniacally with his hair whipping behind him.

"What in Styx," blurted the orderly, rubbing his bum. "Undertaker? You're supposed to be...in...your...room..."

The poor man took two steps and fell to the ground in a sprawl, out cold. William stood up abruptly, just as bewildered as the orderly had been. He'd gotten to know him well enough to be on a first name basis with him, but the orderly still referred to Will by his surname out of respect.

"Carl? Are you—"

Before Will could finish the sentence, the Undertaker peeked around the corner he'd just turned, and he came hurrying back in long strides. "Is he out?" He nudged the hapless man with his bare foot. "Mm, seems so."

"What did you _do_?" Thundered William.

"Hush, Willy." The Undertaker dragged the unconscious, drooling orderly into the bushes. "I'll come back for him. Looks like the shock of getting a pinch on the bum from me was just too much for the poor dear."

"Undertaker—"

"Shhh. Enjoy a few more minutes, y' lovebirds," grunted the mortician. He finished hiding the orderly and he cast a wink at them. "I'd best get back before they chase me here t' you. Toodles!"

And just like that, he was off again. William could hear some of the staff calling out from further down the path near the entrance back into the ward. He put his forehead in his palm and groaned.

"He had something on him, I'm sure of it," he muttered to Ronald. "Heaven knows how he procured it, though."

"I...am so fucking confused..." Ronald blinked, not knowing what to do or think. First there were questions as to why visiting hours had been cut short, followed by questions as to why Undertaker had just 'given them more time' as he'd claimed.

William listened to the commotion with sharp ears, and he frowned. "It sounds as though there's a disturbance."

He heard Undertaker's laughter get cut off with a protest. "That's my _nipple_ you just twisted, you blooming pillock! Patient abuse! I call...oh...that's nice..."

William's eyes bugged. Were some of the orderlies _molesting_ the Undertaker? Surely not.

"All right, he's out," one of them said with relief. "I did _not_ twist his nipple. Least not on purpose. He was squirming."

"Never mind that," instructed the voice of one of the female nurses, "Just get him to his room and strapped down. We've got to get the visitors out the door and the patients in their rooms before any more of them get worked up."

William relaxed, having a better idea of what was happening. "Some of the residents must have gotten intransigent," he murmured. "It's happened before since I got here. One or more begins having an episode and it triggers others."

He looked at Ronald with some regret. "They are putting the hospital on lockdown for the safety of the staff and the patients, until tomorrow. I think—as strange as it sounds—that the Undertaker really _did_ pull that stunt to buy us a few moments. They'll come searching for me soon, so we'd best go back in. First, however..."

William cupped Ronald's face and he lowered his mouth to his for a deep kiss.

Ronald hummed into the kiss, returning it with vigor, "Well, I want the remaining six minutes I'm losing today added to my next visit. It's only fair. It's not like you started this whole thing." He planned to speak to the lady at the visitors desk about it before he left. He then pressed their lips together again to prolong the kiss as much as he could.

Will put his arms around him and held him closer, also wishing to prolong it. He heard footsteps approaching and he reluctantly broke away, stepping out of Ronald's embrace prudently before two more orderlies came jogging up the path to the secluded spot.

"Mister Spears," greeted the first, catching his breath, "I'm afraid you'll have to return to your room."

"I know," said Will calmly. "I heard some of the commotion and presumed it means another lockdown. My companion and I were just about to go inside. Please, there is no need to use restraint."

"We'll just walk with you," said the other, "for your own safety."

William frowned a bit. "It sounds serious."

The orderlies glanced at each other. "Well, it started with a small disturbance, and then the Undertaker went charging out into the yard laughing his head off. That set off a few more. Did he...trouble you?"

"No," William assured quickly. "Not at all. He ran past us, waved hello and then ran back. I've no idea what he thought he was doing."

He dearly hoped that Ronald wouldn't contradict his fib.

"Well, he's just earned himself three days in a padded room for that stunt," grumbled the first orderly.

"That sounds...excessive." Ronald frowned, "He was just running around laughing, right? Children do that all the time. Just cut down on his sugar intake."

"Yes, but when children run around laughing they don't incite other children to hoot and holler and...uh..." The orderly trailed off when William smirked at him.

"You are a family man," the Dispatch supervisor pointed out. "Surely you know better."

"Well, it isn't our call," answered the orderly. "I suppose I could suggest it to his doctor. She likes the old guy...thinks he's funny. That's why she let him out of confinement sooner than scheduled."

William gave Ronald a thankful look, and then he recalled Carl. He felt suddenly torn. He didn't want to leave the poor man lying there in the bushes, but if he revealed that they'd seen him fall he'd have to come up with a reason why and then explain why he and Ronald simply left him there and didn't get help. An idea came to him, then.

"Have either of you seen Mister Barnes? He is usually the one to come and inform us when our time is up."

The first orderly shook his head. "He must have gotten distracted. We came looking for you because you're usually the first one in your room when it's time for lights-out or a lockdown."

"Hmm, well I do hope he's all right. By the sounds of it, things got fairly rowdy."

"We'll look for him after we get everyone settled into their rooms," promised the second orderly.

Ronald pinched Will's butt in a silent way of teasing Will for the fib he'd told.

All too soon, they came to the location where they had to part ways and Ron stopped to hug Will. "I'll come back as soon as I'm able to." he promised.

Will nodded. "Until then. Keep up the good work at the office, Ronald."

* * *

-To be continued


	22. Chapter 22

The Undertaker was uncommonly grouchy the next day when William sat down for lunch with him in the cafeteria. He'd missed him for breakfast—likely because he'd gotten heavily dosed once the orderlies caught up with him the day before and he never woke up to eat. Now he sat with a sour look on his scarred, pale face. His bangs had grown long enough for him to tuck them back behind his ears and he had his long hair gathered into a ponytail, revealing his face in full for a change. Unfortunately, he bore a scowl on that face now and he stabbed his Salisbury steak so aggressively with his plastic fork that the prongs broke off in it. He frowned as he lifted the utensil and stared at it as if it had gravely offended him.

"You seem pleasant today," remarked Will as he sat down across from him at the long table. "You were rather...chipper yesterday."

Undertaker huffed. "They wouldn't allow me dessert with my lunch. Said I was too bloody hyper yesterday."

William looked down at his food and busied himself with his own meal, feeling slightly guilty. The Undertaker loved his sweets and evidently, the doctor had agreed to deny them to his old mentor for a few days. When he'd seen the man sitting at the table he'd prudently chosen not to request a desert for his own food tray, so as not to tease or tempt him.

"Well, going without for a few meals surely won't kill you," he reasoned. Seeing Undertaker heave a mournful sigh, still staring at his fork, Will rolled his eyes. "Oh, honestly. You can request another utensil, sir. They aren't going to deny you the tool to eat with."

"Bugger it, I'll use my fingernails."

William grimaced as the mortician stabbed one of the pre-cut, bite-sized pieces of soft meat with his middle fingernail to lift it to his lips. He chose not to voice his distaste and he started on his broccoli. "Mind telling me what you actually did when you ran by yesterday?" He asked the question in a low whisper, keeping it covert.

"Poked him," answered the Undertaker around a bite of food. He chewed and swallowed. "I saw some careless bloke in a lab coat jogging past with a syringe sticking out of his pocket, so I filched it. I s'pose he was going to use it on the chap in room 24B since he was screaming his head off about demon grapes in his meal. I popped the cap off and—"

He made a skewering gesture in the air with his finger, splattering a little gravy on the table.

"I cannot believe they didn't cut your nails," Will observed as he lifted his drinking cup.

Undertaker smirked. "They just grow right back in a day. They gave up on that. Besides, they aren't death scythes so I can't kill anyone in here with 'em." He speared another piece of meat with the same fingernail as before, and one of the orderlies walked by slowly, watching him with a little too much interest as the mortician stuffed the meat into his mouth and went for another bite immediately.

"How's lunch, fellas?" The orderly had an American accent that William guessed was either Texan or Southern. He wasn't familiar enough with the dialect to be certain.

The Undertaker stuck his middle finger up with the meat still impaled on the nail, and he curled the rest of his fingers down so that he was making a rather obvious rude gesture. "Fabuwous," he answered, dribbling some gravy down his chin and producing a little spittle. He stuffed the piece of meat into his mouth before he even finished chewing the last one. "Mmmm."

"Undertaker," sighed William. He looked at the orderly, who had crossed his arms over his chest. "Please excuse him. He's been denied his sweets and he is merely a bit cranky."

"Well if he keeps that up he's gonna get put down or dosed," warned the American.

"I'll reason with him," promised William. "Thank you."

When the orderly moved on, grumbling under his breath, William leaned over the table to whisper to the Undertaker: "Sir, however will you train me if you get yourself confined to the bed or a padded room again? Now stop behaving like a child and eat like an adult. Here, you may have my spoon. Everything else you have on your tray can be eaten with it."

The Undertaker swallowed like he was consuming cardboard, sipped his plain water and sighed, propping his elbows on the table and resting his cheeks in his palms. "I want a cookie," he groused.

Will closed his eyes and shook his head, wondering how they were going to get through this day. At least the staff had found Carl and revived him with no ill effects, and he had the day off in compensation.

 

* * *

 

Normally, Ronald drove his own bike to work or relied on public transportation if the weather was bad. He didn't like driving Will's car more than he had to because he didn't want to see something happen to it. At most he took it around the block once a week for maintenance reasons. But that morning he decided to drive it to work. People knew the car and knew it belonged to William, and that was what he was counting on now that he had William's permission to go public with their relationship. It would provide proof that they were together since William couldn't be there in person should he be questioned about his claim. 

  
Ronald hurried up the steps and into the entrance of the Dispatch building, clocking in right away as he always did and heading to the lift.

"Ronnie!" Called a feminine voice off to the left. A girl with long legs and straight, waist-length brown hair hurried over to him on her black pumps. She wore a black on white dress suit and she graced him with a lilac-tinted smile. "You never called me! I thought we could go out dancing tonight, and it's been months. You should really get out more, you know. You never seem to have time to do more than work since returning to London!"

Ronald flinched and let out a sigh when he heard her call out to him, "I told you before, Connie, I'm seriously involved with someone, and I'm not the cheating type." he pressed the button to summon the lift to the ground floor a few times as if it'd make it come faster.

"It's okay if you need a little time," she insisted, obviously not believing him in the slightest. "I've heard some dreadful things about what's been happening on the mortal side—especially where you were in Germany! We could just go out for a quiet dinner, if you prefer."

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Ronald was faced with another of his problems; the blonde from Personnel named Penny. She smiled at him, greeted him and pinched his bottom on her way out, looking over her shoulder at him as she carried a file folder to wherever she was taking it. "See you later, sexy," she called out—and her tone said that she meant it.

Eric was in the same elevator, having come down to drop off a memo to the reception desk. He bit his lips after witnessing the exchange, and seeing the determined look on Connie's face when Ron hastily stepped into the lift, he made a quick decision. "Mornin', lass. Here, since yer down here already, why dun' ya do me a favor an' give this tae reception? Thanks, I appreciate it."

Connie's face fell a little, but seeing as it was him requesting it, she smiled and took the document. "Of course, Mr. Slingby."

Her eyes flicked briefly to Ronald again with a slightly predatory sparkle in them. "We'll talk later, Ronnie."

Eric hit the 'close' button on the panel to make the doors slide faster and he pressed the floor number him and Ronald needed. He leaned back against the wall and he crossed his ankles, smirking at the younger blond.

"I'd take some of 'em off yer hands if I were still single. Must be mating season here."

"Yeah, well, at least your mate is here to chase off any unwanted flirts," Ron sighed. "They won't believe me that I'm with someone and if it gets too much worse, I'm going to have to tell them who I'm seeing. Will said I could but I'd really would rather him being with me here when word finally gets out."   
  
He paused, compressing his lips into a thin line a moment. "Have you and Alan made your relationship public yet? Come to think of it, I haven't heard word of it around the gossip circles, and you going steady would definitely be something big that they'd bring back when people who may not have heard come back—like myself."

Eric shook his head. "We're keeping it quiet fer a bit longer, but I think I might be a bit more assertive than ya are when it comes tae turning people down. I've been doin' tha same as you, jus' telling people I'm taken now."

They reached their floor and when they stepped out together, one of the ladies that had tried pursuing Eric looked at the two of them suspiciously. She suddenly bore an enlightened expression—like a lightbulb had clicked on in her head. Immediately following that expression was an expression of dismay...then excitement. Eric watched her rush off to one of her fellow secretaries and he frowned when she whispered into her friend's ear and pointed at the two of them. The other girl followed her gesture with her eyes and she gasped and giggled behind her hand.

"Oh, Rick is going to be sooo disappointed," Eric heard the second girl say, and then the two of them began to whisper.

The Scotsman stopped and scratched his beard growth in perplexity. "Now wha's _that_ all about? Somethin' on mah face?"

Then he got a horrible suspicion when he recognized the name Rick and placed a face with it. He'd slept with a guy named Rick from Personnel a while back, before he hooked up with Alan. He grimaced and he glanced at Ronald, deciding not to say anything just yet.

Ronald shook his head, "No clue, but I suddenly got this uneasy feeling." he admitted, "It's like...they are going to gang up on one or both of us for a... I don't know, a romp in the supply closet or something. I'm really tired of turning people down, ya know?"   
  
With a shrug, he took a larger step forward and turned to stand in front of Eric, looking up at him, "By the way, want to take Lunch together? Grell-senpai's always too busy these days to go for lunch, and whenever I eat alone I find myself surrounded by people from General Affairs. Alan can come, too of course."

"Sure, Ronnie." Eric tried to shelf his uneasy feelings as well. Gods, he hoped Ronald was wrong about that. Maybe the two of them would soon have to file a complaint of sexual harassment—but who the hell would believe so many people were doing it to just two guys? Especially when none of the perpetrators had no history of doing it whatsoever.

The Scot reached out and gave Ronald's shoulder a familiar squeeze. "Let's jus' get outta this hallway. The stares are making mah hackles rise."

"I have to pick up my collections list, yet." Ronald agreed, checking his watch, "I might have somewhere to be right now and don't know it. I should go grab it from my inbox, and I'll see ya at lunch." He smiled, turning away and hurrying to his own office. "Oh, and you forgot to tie your tie. Maybe you should have Alan help you with that." He smirked before unlocking his door and slipping inside.

 

* * *

 

 

Eric walked into the office he shared with his partner and he went to the small mirror hanging on the wall in their little bathroom. Alan was busy with filing at the moment and he didn't want to disturb him with his silly tie problem. After a few moments of fighting with it, he growled and gave up.

"Wha' in bloody hell is with these damned things," he snapped, ready to tear the thing off and give up.

"What things?" Alan asked, reading the tabs on a file before pulling out the correct drawer to file it away and moving to the next in his pile. When he didn't receive an answer right away, he turned and glanced over his shoulder, seeing a tangled mess of a tie around his partner's neck.  
  
"How did you even manage to make such a mess of that tie?" he asked, setting the pile of files down on the open drawer and moving over to help untangle it so that he could retie it for him.

"I dunno," admitted Eric with a sigh. He smirked at his lover as Alan methodically corrected the tangle he'd made and tied it correctly for him. He put his hands on his waist and he lowered his head to give Alan a kiss on the mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart. Good thing tha boss isn't here tae chew me out o'er it."

Upon thinking that, Eric grimaced a little. He and Alan were holding their own together, true, but he still didn't know how Spears managed to handle supervising Dispatch all on his own. "Might sound strange, but I miss him being here. Will might be a grump but he's go' his shite t'gether. It's really no wonder tha man snapped, now tha' I've seen wha' he deals with on a daily basis. Maybe we ought tae try visiting him sometime, even if we've go' tae take turns doin' it. I'd like tae let him know I've gained a better appreciation of wha' he does around here."

"I think he'd appreciate that. We can ask Ronald later when visiting hours are." Alan agreed, sliding his hands up along the black silt tie he'd just tied for his lover, "It'd also be nice to get him back here so that we could spend more free time together." he added with a smile, pulling the lion down into another kiss.

A low purr rumbled in Eric's throat, and his hands slid lower down Alan's back to pull him closer. They hadn't even had sex yet and while the wait was painful, he knew it would be worth it. "Mmm, yer tempting me so much, Alan," he murmured between kisses. "Some time off would be...nice."

If the swelling in his pants was any indication, time off would be _more_ than nice. Even if he and Alan still didn't make it into the bed, just kissing and touching him was so fulfilling to Eric. He'd never been with anyone that touched him this way, and at times it scared him a little.

"Ya make me breathless," he confessed, lips trailing over the smaller reaper's jawline. He made himself step back and he smirked at him. "I won't act like a caveman, though."

"No," Alan agreed with a giggle, "it would not be appropriate behavior in the office. At home, however, a little caveman may be welcomed."   
  
Winking, the brunet turned back to the task he'd been interrupted from by Eric's inability to properly secure his tie.

Now that his tie was fixed, Eric went to his desk to start doing his filing. He logged into the Dispatch database and he went into his personal profile to begin reading messages from Personnel. Each day he had to do this and decide which of the latest names on the death lists should be assigned to whom. He sighed when he pulled up the file and saw the expansive list.

"We barely made a bloody dent yesterday," he remarked, propping his chin in one hand. "I think I might need a coffee. How 'bout ya, Alan? Want me tae bring one back fer ya?"

Alan shook his head. He wasn't much a coffee drinker and he felt as if he'd been drinking it too much lately. "No, thank you, I've been drinking it so much since helping you fill in for Mister Spears that it's begun to make my stomach uneasy. But I'll take a tea, if you don't mind..." He turned away from his work once more and opened the top drawer of his desk where he kept his non-work related possessions, and picked up a tin containing tea leaves, "My doctor suggested I try this stuff. It's supposed to be good for calming the mind but giving energy. He had it imported from Reaper China."

Eric walked over to look over his shoulder. "Huh. China, eh?" He put his big hands on Alan's shoulders and he massaged them. He bent over to speak into the smaller reaper's ear. "Whate'er comes of it, I'm wi' ya. I'll be at yer side no matter what, Al."

"I know." Alan slipped his arms around Eric and held him, "If nothing else, I know I can trust you." He looked up at his love, "But we really shouldn't be wasting so much time. We have a lot of work to keep on top of."

"Aye, too much," sighed Eric regretfully. "This place could really do wi' Spears' affirmative action. Think I'm selfish fer wantin' him back?"

Alan agreed with a hum. "Given where he is and why...yes. He needs us to help him like this so when he comes back he's not overwhelmed right away. I'm sure Ronald would appreciate it as well. It wouldn't be much better than now if his boyfriend is stuck in the office all night."

Eric sighed. "I was afraid ye'd say tha'. Dammit." He smirked even as he cursed the situation and he lowered his mouth  to his partner's for another smooch. "Can I at least get a bit o' sugar tae go wi' tha punishment?"

Alan rolled his eyes, but complied and pressed their lips together in a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he ran his fingers through Eric's hair. "I'm thinking of putting in a formal request with the board to allow the acting Supervisor of London's department to have an official assistant to help divide up the work. You and I can barely keep on top of his responsibilities and workload. I'm sure the board would agree that having help would cut down on the chance of this happening to William again once he gets back."

"Aye, tha's good thinking," agreed Eric. "Last thing tha boss needs is tae come back and snap all o'er again from being overworked. I'll sign my name tae tha' request too." He sighed and he checked his wallet. "Be righ' back wi' our drinks, lover. Then I'll get started on all this scheduling mess."

He walked out of the office and down to the break room to get a fresh coffee for himself and some tea for Alan. He passed by one of the junior officers on the way and he felt his eyes on him the whole way there. Telling himself it was just his imagination and people weren't really staring at him like a carnival display, Eric prepared the tea and poured some fresh coffee from the pot. Preparing himself for another long work day, he picked up the mugs and he started to leave the break room. He heard a couple of female voices speak outside in the hallway and he stopped in his tracks upon recognizing one of them. It was Connie, and she was speaking to another young woman whose voice wasn't familiar to Eric.

"I'm telling you, it makes perfect sense! They're _always_ out partying together, and I've been hearing rumors for months that the two of them were seen dancing _really close_ at a club one night."

"But that doesn't necessarily mean anything," protested the other girl. "I dance with my friends all the time, and we aren't shagging each other!"

"Yeah, but this wasn't just regular dancing," corrected Connie. "I heard they were grinding. You know, the kind of grinding you do when you intend to take someone to bed with you."

"Oh, wow," said the other girl. "So you really think Knox and Slingby are really banging each other? That's...too bad for the rest of us, but damn they would be hot together!"

Eric almost dropped his mug. So _that_ was why they'd started getting all those stares this morning. Someone drew their own conclusions and now rumor was spreading like wildfire that he and Ronald were each other's 'secret lovers'.

"Ah, fook," muttered the Scot with a sigh. This was going to get back to Alan sooner or later and he was sure Will would eventually hear it from someone, too. It certainly didn't help that he and Ronnie used to be friends with benefits. What if Will and Alan believed the rumors? Hell, Eric didn't even know if his boss was aware of his and Ronald's past relationship.

"Better have a talk wi' Alan 'bout this an' warn Ronnie," he decided—but he waited until the two girls' voices faded as they walked down the hall before slipping out of the break room.

 

* * *

 

"Man, you'd think I'd grown an extra eye and a tail by the looks I keep getting!" Ronald announced as he slipped into Eric and Alan's office, "Makes me eager to get out on the field collecting souls. My first of the day is in an hour so...what'd you two call me in for?" he asked, sitting on the edge of Eric's desk and looking at Alan.  
  
Alan shrugged, "Eric came back from getting us beverages and called you over first thing." he sipped his tea and sat down in his chair.  
  
"Mysterious boss." Ron smirked at Eric, his expression falling as he spotted two secretaries outside the door, watching him. "Oi, don't you have work to do? I told you two yesterday I'm not interested!"

Eric hastily shut the door and he gestured at the couch. "Have a seat, Ronnie. I jus' found out why people have been acting sae odd towards us t'day an' I think I'd better jus' tell both o' ya now, instead o' waiting."

"I think it's obvious, Eric, they want in our pants and we aren't available to them anymore." Ron shrugged, "Like I said before, if it gets too bad I'll just tell them I'm dating Will."

"Oh, it's worse than tha'," corrected Eric with a grimace. "Seems they've go' tha idea in their heads tha' we're an item, Ronnie. I o'erheard some o' tha girls gossiping in tha hall when I went tae get something tae drink fer me an' Alan. Guess they drew their own conclusions since they know we're taken but no' by who."

He looked at Alan and he winced. "Sorry, Al. I dinnae think people were tha' damned interested in our personal business. I dinnae want ya thinking Ron an' I've hooked up again an' I sure as shite dun' want Will catching wind o' these rumors an' getting th' same idea."

He looked at Ronald again. "Al an' I talked about it an' he knows we used tae fool around. I dunno if ye've told Will about it or no' but if ya haven't, this could cause problems."

"Man, they are late on picking up who we're banging..." Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Will knows we had the occasional bang. I told him before we started dating, so I'm not worried about that. The question is...how do we squash the rumors? I mean, you are my best friend and I have no intention of distancing myself from you in any way just because people think we are together."  
  
"And I wouldn't expect you to." Alan nodded, standing up and walking over to Eric, sitting in his lap. "You need to trust my trust in you, Eric. I wouldn't assume you are cheating on me with Ronald if I heard it through the grapevine. You promised me when we got together that I'd be your one and only, and I trust your word on it."

Eric relaxed and put an arm around him. "Aye, but it was shocking tae hear an' I panicked a little. 'Course, I dunno when they think Ronnie an' I'd find tha time lately tae do any o' tha'. He hasnae been back from Germany fer long an' I'm so busy since we took o'er fer Will, I barely have time tae take a piss between scheduling. Maybe we ought tae jus' stop keeping things quiet an' let people know 'bout our relationships. Have yeh brought anything up tae Will about tha' possibility yet, Ronnie?"

"He said I could tell if I need to, but I was sort of hoping to save it until he's here with me when they find out. You gotta admit no one is going to believe that even I landed Will unless I have proof." The younger blond nodded.  
  
Alan sighed. "It's really no one's business but our own. I don't care how popular you are, Eric, they don't need to know who you are sleeping with and when. Same with Ronald and everyone else."  
  
"I agree, but people love their gossip. They aren't going to let up about it until they get something new to gossip about." Ronald shrugged, eyeing the two, "You two do make a rather adorable couple, though. Much handsomer than what Eric and I would make."

Eric smiled and he nuzzled Alan's cheek. "I'd say tha same about yeh an' Will."

Granted, he hadn't had the chance to witness the two of them interacting as a couple very much, but he'd seen their devotion to each other when Spears cracked that night and went off on Grell in his apartment. He'd never seen William look at anyone else that way before. If only Ronald had some sort of photo of the two of them together to put on his desk...something romantic and—

"I've go' it," exclaimed Eric with a snap of his fingers. "We'll go wi' ya one day fer a visit. Been meaning tae do it fer a while anyway. I'll take mah camera an' take a picture o' tha two of ya doin' somethin' romantic an' then...ugh...wait. They aren't gonna let me take a camera in wi' me, are they? Plus I dun' think they'll let Will change in tae regular clothes fer it, an' people dun' need tae see him dressed up as a mental patient. As if they dun' already have enough tae gossip about."

"No, no that wouldn't work...however," Ron hopped off Eric's desk and started pacing, "I wasn't going to say anything until it's confirmed, but Will put in for a day's leave so that we could have a proper date. We were going to ask you two to dinner if he could get the leave. Will thinks part of his problem is how separated he is from others. Having friends could do him a lot of good."

Eric nodded. "Couldn't hurt. I've always wondered how th' man could stand so much solitude. If Alan's up fer it, than so am I. We could take a picture of ya both there an' get it developed. Maybe two or three, while we're at it. Ya could keep one framed on yer desk an' carry tha o'er one in yer wallet."

"He should have one too," Ronald insisted, "I gave him one of me from when I graduated but I'm sure he wouldn't mind having another picture of his sexy boyfriend to keep him company when I can't be there in person."  
  
"I think dinner would be a wonderful idea," Alan commented. "I'll cook something up should he be granted the day, and Eric can get you two a few nice photographs."

"Sounds like a date tae me." Eric patted Alan on the side of his rump with some regret. "But right now, we'd all better get back tae work. I'm behind as it is an' if we let tha work pile up we'll be stuck wi' overtime. Let's make sure tha' doesnae happen so we can be there on time fer tha date, aye?"

"We have lots of time." Ron shrugged. "It takes time for that place to review requests. Enjoy your overtime, Slingby," he teased, going to the door and placing his hand on the handle, "I have a soul to collect. Try not to get lost in Alan's eyes, there."  
  
Ronald slipped out of the office, closing the door behind him.  
  
Alan flushed and looked back at Eric, "He's right, we should get back to work, we keep getting distracted today."

 

* * *

 

"Undertaker, would you please stop sulking about it?" William was beginning to lose patience with the elder as his mood blackened even more by day three of no dessert allowances. He himself wasn't in a very good mood, as he'd just been evaluated and he was secretly worried about the results. "Focus on our lesson, would you? I cannot believe you are behaving so childishly."

The other man had actually earned himself a night in lockup just yesterday after threatening to make a dessert out of one of the orderly's eyes if they didn't give him a cupcake. He was so medicated when they let him back out again that he was useless.

"Fine then," muttered the Undertaker. "Shut your peepers and do the meditation I taught you."

William did as he was bidden, attempting to shut out the sounds of other patience going about their daily activities in the exercise yard. He barely got started before he heard Grell Sutcliff's familiar voice calling out from the path outside the garden area. "Oh, honestly," he sighed. He supposed the redhead was there to pay another visit to his former mentor. He didn't know what exactly had changed between the two of them but they seemed to be getting closer.

"Darling, I brought you a little something~" Grell cooed, draping himself over the silver's shoulders before even taking notice of William, "Oh, you're here, too. I would have thought you'd be trying to get out to go save Ronnie from dealing with the rumors about him and Slingby~ He's having a hard time putting a stop to them, even with Eric and Allie helping."  
  
He twirled around Undertaker until he was in his lap and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a plastic bag containing large heart shaped cookie with red frosting he'd smuggled in.

William rolled his eyes, but the Undertaker's smile took to his ears like a little boy on Christmas. "Really? For me?" He took the offering and he opened it, immediately taking a bite and making an almost orgasmic sound in his throat. "Mmm...fo goof," he mumbled around the treat. He gave Grell a squeeze.

"Oh honestly," snapped William in a hiss, "do you want him to get into more trouble than he already has, Sutcliff? If they catch him eating that—"

"Can't catch me if there's no evidence, chap." The Undertaker gobbled up the rest of the cookie, stuffing it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it as quickly as he could. He sighed in bliss and rested his head against Grell's shoulder in gratitude. "Sorry for my manners, darlin'."

"Look at that, I dropped a leftover baggy from my lunch." Grell smirked, shoving the plastic bag into his pocket again. He then looked at Will, "I know you have no problem turning _me_ in, but you wouldn't turn in _Unnie_ , would you?"

Will sighed. No, he wouldn't turn the Undertaker in, and a part of him was grateful to the bothersome redhead for giving the mortician the "sugar fix" he needed. Undertaker's behavior had been getting increasingly erratic, and he'd over heard his doctor warning him that she was fighting the board over having his medication increased, but she's have no choice but to comply if he continued being disruptive.

Something else that Grell had said caught William's attention, then. "What's this about rumors concerning Ronald and Slingby?"

"Oh, well, Eric's taken himself off the market, as it were, for a while now and when Ronnie came back and also started refusing dates, I guess the ladies and gents around the office came to their own conclusions. Just this morning on my way to my office I heard Madison from the Glasses department tell a few others that he caught Eric and Ronnie banging in the lift. They are quite the hot little item these days, though there isn't a lick of truth to it!"

William blinked slowly, and a frown tugged at his lips. He'd _told_ Ronald that he was all right with him telling people they were a couple. He supposed it wouldn't do any good right now, given the rumors spreading about him. "And how are Humphries and Slingby trying to help?"

He needed to remain calm. His evaluation was scheduled for this afternoon and if he showed any signs of agitation, he might fail it and he could kiss his requested overnight pass goodbye.

Grell shrugged, "How should I know? I never see the outside of that stupid fancy office they stuck me in! I miss my old job. These days I only get to pull out my scythe to scare off subordinates who bother me! I actually haven't seen Ronnie, Eric, or Alan since getting back from Germany."

William smirked at that. "How ironic. Now you may gain an understanding of what it's like to be in my place, Sutcliff."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too quick to gloat, Willy," advised the Undertaker with a grin. "Grell here could end up replacing you, and then _you_ might just get a taste of what it's like to be _him_."

"He already knows." Grell shrugged, "He had to work his way up, after all. They didn't make him supervisor right after graduation. I just happen to enjoy having more fieldwork than deskwork. Always have."

"Indeed, I do know," agreed William with a nod.

Unlike Grell, he was more suited to the deskwork. He was used to it and he was very, very good at it. His superiors had already assured him that his position within the organization was assured and would be awaiting him when he was fit to return—part of the reason he was trying so hard to get better and get on with his life. Ronald, however, had become the bigger incentive for that. He noticed that the Undertaker's doctor was approaching—an attractive reaper woman that generally wore her red-gold hair pinned up. Today it hung loose to her shoulders, stylishly waved to frame her comely features.

"Grell, you should evacuate the Undertaker's lap now," warned William. He'd caught a glimpse of Doctor Landers through the foliage and soon, she'd pass by the little path and be within view of them. "Undertaker's doctor is approaching and I suspect she may find it highly inappropriate for a visitor to be in such a position with one of her patients."

"Does that mean you kick Ronnie out of his sexy seat when he visits you?" Grell asked, raising a shapely eyebrow, "Poor boy."   
  
He didn't move; not being one to care about being caught. Besides, most of the staff knew him from his own stay, and they knew how he could be when he got stubborn and passionate. But those were not qualities that they could keep him under evaluation for.

"Sutcliff, I am not kidding," hissed William, his gaze flicking to the approaching doctor. "If you like the Undertaker as much as you seem to, you'll put his best interests before your greed!"

"I'm sure it'll be fine, lad," said the Undertaker. He nuzzled Grell's temple. "We aren't doing any naughty touching, after all. Just snuggling."

Whatever else William intended to say about it got interrupted as Dr. Landers caught sight of him and approached. "Well _there_ you are! I thought I'd find you here."

She smiled as she approached, and she blinked a little at the sight of the redhead in his lap. She coughed into her hand but she didn't chastise them for the display of affection. Many patients held hands or snuggled with visiting loved ones, so it wasn't exactly a shock to see the legendary reaper with one. She turned to William.

"Good morning, Mr. Spears. I trust the day is treating you well?"

"It was," grumped the brunet.

She chuckled and she turned to Undertaker again. Recognizing the grinning reaper in his lap, her brows shot up. "Grell Sutcliff. Why, I remember you! I hope life's been treating you better."

Grell smirked at William as if to tease him for worrying so much before he regarded her; "Well, I'm not back in here for killing mortals not on the to-die list, if that's what you mean. I've been behaving myself—mostly."  
  
The redhead slipped his arms around Undertaker's shoulders and fiddled with his single long braid he kept.

"So I see." She smirked and she leaned over a bit to address the seated ancient. "This one's been in a bit of trouble lately. Try to behave yourself today, dear."

Dr. Landers patted the Undertaker familiarly on the head before straightening up and checking her watch. "Well, just don't forget that yard time ends in seven minutes, please. You'll have to move it inside soon."

"I'm too busy to get into trouble!" Grell insisted, "I work, sleep, and visit Unnie-Bunny! The most action I see is a paper cut!" He pointed over at William, "You should let him out so he can return to his desk and pull strings to get me back on the field!"

"We can't just 'let him out' without the proper evaluations, Mr. Sutcliff," explained the doctor with some amusement. "Mr. Spears checked himself into this institution for a reason, and we would be remiss if we release him before ensuring he receives all the help and treatment we can provide."

Her gaze flicked to Will and she watched him thoughtfully. "Although, the results of evaluations so far suggest he's really not much worse off than any of the staff here, in terms of mental stability. If you don't mind my saying so sir, I think your issues could be resolved with simple anxiety medication. So far we've witnessed none of the unstable behavior you described when you first came to us, and many Dispatch agents suffer post traumatic stress after doing the sort of field work you've recently done. The fact that you were accustomed to working behind a desk only compounds that. You never did say why you chose to get directly involved in the situation, now that I think of it."

Will lowered his gaze. He himself wasn't entirely sure why he'd done it, except..."I felt...responsible." He nodded. "Yes. I am part German and there was an odd sense of guilt in my heart the entire time. Perhaps I thought I might balance it a bit by reaping the souls of my mother's mortal brethren. A foolish notion, perhaps, but some part of me believed those Nazi soldiers deserved their deaths, and I could assuage my unreasonable guilt by carrying them into the afterlife."

"That isn't foolish," soothed Dr. Landers. "It's perfectly logical for us to feel as though we share the responsibility when one of our own does something wrong. You are a leader, Mr. Spears. When one reaper in your department makes a mistake, you take partial responsibility for it when addressing the board, do you not?"

Will shot a glare at Grell. "Yes."

The doctor smiled and shrugged. "Well, there's your answer. You're used to shouldering the responsibility of your team's actions. I'll make a note of that and share it with your doctor for your evaluation this afternoon. It's a rather important thing to acknowledge."

She looked at her watch again and she sighed. "My break is over. Just please remember to be back inside on time, gentlemen. Have a lovely day."

"Bye, Madeline!" Undertaker waved at her as she left, and then he put his arm back around Grell and he lay his head on his shoulder. "She's a nice lady...even if she _did_ order I be restricted from my sweets."

Will smirked with amusement. "She seems rather fond of you. I don't imagine she'll keep you deprived for much longer, Undertaker."

The mortician sighed. "Hope not. I've put her on the list of people I _won't_ hurt when I take my leave of this place."

"And where would you go?" Grell asked, loosely braiding a lock of his hair in with Undertaker's to make it look similar to a candy cane.

"Hmm, haven't thought much on that," admitted the Undertaker. He smiled at Grell. "Mayhap a certain lovely rose could take me in for a bit, till I figure it out? I'm house-broken and self-sustaining. It'd be like having a big white kitty of your very own."

William sighed and he rubbed his forehead. As much as Sutcliff annoyed him, he felt some responsibility for him and he didn't want to see him get himself into trouble again. "Undertaker, please don't even suggest it. Grell has endured a long, difficult road to recovery from his last transgression against reaper laws. He does not need—"

"I happen to be a big girl who can take care of herself, Will!" Grell interrupted, "And if I want to get a kitty named Bunny, I can more than take responsibility for my kitty!"

Will blinked at the two of them, briefly confused by Grell's wording. "Bunny?" he repeated softly to himself. He shrugged it away, remembering to whom he was speaking to. "Very well. You cannot say I didn't warn you, however."

Undertaker just smiled and nuzzled Grell's cheek again. He purposely made a loud purring sound and he playfully nipped the redhead's earlobe. William sighed and raised his eyes heavenward. The two of them together could only spell disaster. "Well, we should retire indoors as the doctor mentioned," he suggested. "Let us not tempt fate staying out here for longer than advised."

"You have absolutely no sense of mischief." Grell frowned, "It's ok to push the limits of rules. Don't you remember being a kid during free time? Don't go inside until the grown-ups come calling to mark the end of it, otherwise you waste precious time away from boring work."

"This is a completely different...oh, what is the use?" Will threw his hands up in exasperation and he stood up. "Do as you like. I for one do not intend to put any marks against myself by bending rules. I will not stay here any longer than I must. Good day to you."

He walked away then, leaving his former mentor and work associate to their own devices.

Undertaker watched him go, and then he looked at Grell. "Touchy fellow, isn't he?"

"Ronnie has his work cut out for him." Grell nodded, "Maybe it's a good thing he never started returning my feelings for him. If he had I may have reaped him by now because I don't do well with frustration." he turned his head and smiled at Undertaker, " _You_ , on the other hand..." he pressed his lips to Undertaker's.

The mortician grinned into the kiss and he ran his nails through Grell's bright, flowing hair. "I'm an easy-going bloke, true enough," he sighed after breaking the kiss. "I can be a jealous sort, though. Fair warning. When I'm with a lady I don't much care for other men trying t' lift her skirts."

He nuzzled Grell's cheek affectionately and he ran his hand over his outer thigh. "Otherwise, I'm a rather generous sort." He was swelling in his jumpers and he didn't bother trying to conceal it. Styx, it had been a long time since he'd indulged in pleasures of the flesh. He was half-tempted to break out of this facility right now just so he could partake in the activity, but that wouldn't be fair to William...and his flirtation with Sutcliff was still new. Mad though he was, the Undertaker believed such things oughtn't be rushed.

"Mm," Grell bit his lip lightly as to save blood from being spilled, "I'm a flirt, darling. I can't help but be a little flirty with handsome men, even if I'm taken. You'd need to deal with that, you jealous thing."

"Hmph...we'll see." Undertaker nibbled the smaller reaper's earlobe. "I've a feeling I could make you forget all about other men, given the chance to give you a taste of what I can do in the bedroom."

He slid his hand further up Grell's thigh, teasing him. "Granted, it's been a while," he breathed into his ear, "but some things are never un-learned, yeah?"

A stain of red crossed Grell's cheeks, "Dogs can be trained...but I am a wolf." he whispered.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, m'dear," promised the Undertaker in a whisper, "if it were any different, I wouldn't find you so...engaging." He kissed Grell's neck just below the ear, his breath ghosting over the fair skin. His hand crept further up his thigh until his knuckles brushed against the swell of Grell's crotch.

"Maybe you could train me instead?" suggested the mortician with a grin. "Show me what you like and what you don't like, eh? Only thing you need t' know about me is I can be a bit territorial...but I'm a pleaser, too."

He deliberately stroked the back of his hand over Grell's crotch and he nibbled his ear. "I'm also a versatile fellow. I can give or take and be satisfied either way."

Grell purred, "Do you have a private room?" he asked, leaning into his ear; tongue slipping past his lips to trace along it.

The Undertaker shivered with delight and he sighed. "Alas, no. They barely allow me t' take a piss without someone breathing down my neck, darlin'." He gave the redhead's inner thigh a squeeze, wishing it were otherwise. The temptation to break out early just for the opportunity to demonstrate his lovemaking skills with Grell was growing more powerful by the moment. "One thing I can promise you though: It'll be worth the wait."

He turned his head to capture Grell's lips in a kiss, tongue lancing in to fence with his. He scraped himself on the younger reaper's sharp teeth but it hardly bothered him. "Mmm..."

"Well, that's no way to treat an important VIP guest! You should file a formal complaint." The redhead purred against his lips, his fingers combing through silver locks.

"I'm definitely considering it," sighed the mortician. He was beginning to sorely regret his decision to turn himself in, and it was rather ironic that the very reaper that he'd surrendered to was also the one he wanted the freedom to romance. He smirked at Grell. "Funny how things work out, eh? Here we are snogging in this place after all's said and done. Pity we can't do more than that for now."

"That's not entirely accurate. We can also make Will very uncomfortable~" Grell giggled, "Did you see how he fidgeted when I got into your lap? Poor thing doesn't want to imagine what I'd do to his childhood hero in the dead of the night."

The Undertaker chuckled. "Willy's got a bigger imagination than he cares to admit, I think. I'm a grown reaper though, and so are you. He'll just have to learn t' live with it."

He nibbled Grell's ear, and then he noticed a couple of orderlies heading their way down the path. "Ah, bugger. It's past time to get inside and you can bet your buttons they're coming to fetch me."

"I take it that it's too late to hide?" Grell smirked before getting up off his lap and holding his hand out. Their hair was still braided together, making Grell wait for Undertaker to come with him.

The mortician stood up and walked alongside Grell, smirking at the braid connecting them by the hair. He held his hands up in supplication when the orderlies spotted them and tensed as if they were on the defensive. "No need t' get anxious, chaps. We were just on our way back inside."

They glanced at each other before the one on the right spoke. "Visiting hours are over with, Undertaker."

The mortician sighed and looked to Grell. "Just as I thought. Well, at least allow me to escort the lady back inside and disconnect our hair. We'll be right behind you. Promise."

They looked reluctant at first, but then the Undertaker grinned and they seemed to lose their nerve. "Two minutes. Any longer and you'll be restrained again tonight."

"Cross my black heart," agreed the ancient. He watched them go and then he turned to Grell, pinching the top of their braided length together. "You wouldn't still happen to have those cute li'l scissor scythes you were assigned to for a time, would you?"

"They're useless for reaping, but very handy for cutting through difficult things." Grell nodded, arching a brow, "Why? Sharp objects is a no-no in this place."

"'Cause I've got an idea," answered the Undertaker evasively. "Quick, summon one of 'em for me."

"You do realize that if I'm caught giving you them, I could get my cute little bum banned from visiting you and Will, right?" Grell said slowly, though he summoned them anyhow.

"Only need it for a moment," promised the Undertaker. He took one of the pairs of scissors from Grell and before the redhead could even begin to react, he snipped off the braid connecting them both by the hair. "Hah...there now! Look at this, my dear...it fits perfectly!"

The Undertaker replaced the pair of scissors in Grell's hand with a broad smile, and he offered the braid he'd just snipped off by the root of it. "Might want to find something to tie that off at both ends, darlin'. Sorry if I snuck up on you, but look at it like a promise. I'm going to snuggle you silly when I get out of here."

Grell's eyes were wide, "You—you cut my—you cut your—you cut our beautiful hair!" he gasped, though he had to admit, it was a cute gesture. He found himself torn between the gesture and symbolism of the gift, and the fact that his hair, which he took great pride in, had been cut.

Undertaker nodded. "Right. It'll grow back, love. Look at how lovely we fit together, though." He smiled as he held up the snipped lock for demonstration. "I'll do much more than kiss you, soon as I get the chance. That is, with your kind permission."

"Learned your lesson on that, did you?" Grell dismissed the small scythe and he took the braid, "Remind me to spank you for cutting my hair, later, and then you may have my permission to do more than kiss."

Undertaker chuckled and he spared a moment to bump his nose against Grell's. "I can hardly wait, dearie."

"Mister Undertaker," warned one of the orderlies, coming back around the corner.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," sighed the mortician. He really hoped Willy would get released soon. He was beginning to lose patience with this place and he wasn't lying when he said he really didn't _have_ to stay in this place a moment longer than he wanted to.

* * *

-To be continued


End file.
